


The Mistake

by ccgh518



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Established Friendship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccgh518/pseuds/ccgh518
Summary: When Stiles Stilinski and Y/n Y/L/N were sixteen years old, they made a pact: if in twenty years, they were both still single and their friends had all gotten married, they would marry each other. At twenty-six, a turn of events and a wedding, change their entire lives.





	1. The One With The Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Em](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Em).



> this is a birthday gift to the love of my life, @fillthevoid-stilinski (on tumblr), who loves the fake-relationship trope and asked me to do this, to which i happily agreed. this was weirdly heavily influenced by Ross and Rachel on Friends and also was born from a conversation with @ellie-bee-242. 
> 
> enjoy :)

_"I still feel bad for Isaac and Kira though." You said, sitting on the counter in Stiles' kitchen, eating an apple, while he stared at his open fridge._

_Stiles closed the door half way so that he could look at you on the other side of it. "Are you telling me you were rooting for anyone but Scott and Allison ending up together?" He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for something to munch on._

_"Of course not, they are our best friends, and they're sickeningly cute together, and she loves him so much, I wanted them to get back together. I just feel bad for, well, Isaac mostly. Kira and Scott were never that serious, but Isaac seemed pretty into Al."_

_Stiles closed the door, not having found anything, and stared up at you, crunching your way through the granny smith apple in your hand. "Yea, well, maybe if he stopped wearing those fucking scarves when it's the middle of May, he would get the girl." You smirked and rolled your eyes at your best friend, not indulging his irrational hatred of Isaac's scarves with a reply. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Your smirk grew into a smug grin, which you broke when you took another bite from the piece of fruit, and then shrugged. "Oh, well then, I hate you, and you don't get to eat my fruit."_

_Stiles plucked the apple out of your hand and walked towards the stairs. You sat on the counter, your mouth amused and agape, until you heard the crunching sound of him taking a bite. You leapt off the granite surface, with a thud as your bare feet connected with the floor, and took off running after him. Stiles stood at the top of the staircase, the apple hanging by his side, in his hand, with a devilish grin spread across his face. You paused at the bottom step, tilting your head to the side, watching him, silently daring him to take another bite. Stiles licked his lips, brought the apple up and chomped down again._

_"You bastard!" You took off running up the stairs after him, and Stiles just stood at the landing, laughing hysterically, bent at the waist, hands pressed against his knees. "Give me my apple back!" You playfully yelled, reaching around him, as he concealed the fruit from you. Finally, running out of options, you leapt onto his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, and your arms wrapping around his neck, you reach for the granny smith, but Stiles' arms were longer. Stiles wrapped his free hand around your wrists, keeping you from falling, as he straightened up._

_"Grow longer arms and you can get it back." He quipped._

_"Oh, yea, let me just get on that, Stilinski." You said sarcastically, causing him to chuckle._

_"Are you getting off or am I carrying you to my room?" Stiles asked, his hand moving from your wrist to your hand._

_"Piggyback, please." You snickered, smiling at his lingering touch on the back of your hand._

_"Yes, ma'am." Stiles grinned and carried you on his back into his bedroom, a place you had been a million times before. "Oh god, oh no.." Stiles began to fake struggle, as he approached his bed. "I can't... you're too heavy.... too many apples... I'm going down." Stiles dropped backwards on to the bed, squishing you between him and his _mattress, and decided to just lay on top of you, your hand still under his.__

__"You think I'm eating too many apples, oh my god, you are crushing me to death... Stilessss." You fake whined, because you felt like you were supposed to, but you didn't unwrap your legs from his waist, and you didn't unwrap your arms from around his neck, because you didn't want to not be touching him._ _

__Stiles laughed, his body vibrating against yours, and rolled off of you. He landed next to you on his blue plaid duvet and smiled, finally handing you back your apple. You smiled softly, took a bite, and then handed it back to him. You didn't mind sharing with him; you had been doing it since you were six and you first met Stiles and Scott. The three of you had been inseparable for the past ten years, and you wouldn't have ever wanted it any other way, but now that Scott had Allison, you and Stiles had been leaning on each other extra. You watched as he tossed the core into the trash by his desk, and quietly high fived him for getting it in on the first shot._ _

__"I can't believe you liked Allison and Isaac together." Stiles mumbled, a smirk spreading across his face, as he brought back up your argument from earlier. He glanced over and saw you roll your eyes again, and he snorted. "You just don't learn do you." He poked you in the side, tickling you, and you squirmed._ _

__"Would you just not? How about that?" You playfully glared at him, a smile still plastered on your face. "Don't think I don't know where you're ticklish too, Mieczysław." You teased. Stiles gasped and glared at you, and you just shoved your hand against his face, pushing it to the side, then heard him laughing. His laugh was like hearing your favorite song come up on shuffle, especially with all that had been going on lately. You sighed, as Stiles turned his head back towards you and waited for you to talk again. "I didn't like Isaac and.. okay, they were cute, and she was happy, so I liked them, but Scott and Allison were always going to end up together in my head."_ _

__"In his head too." Stiles snickered, referring to Scott, who had always held out hope._ _

__You laughed, and raised your eyebrows in agreement. "I don't know, Stilinski, I'm pretty sure in five years, you and I will be stuck sitting at the single's table at their wedding, while like all of our other friends are paired off, and you and I remain perpetually single."_ _

__"Wow, that was grim." Stiles' eyes widened in surprise. "I'll make you a deal, kid."_ _

__You turned your head and smirked at his 'kid' nickname for you. It always made you laugh since you were two months older than him. "What's your deal?"_ _

__"If in twenty years, when we're thi-" Stiles began._ _

__"Thirty-six?" You cut him off, cringing at the thought of not being a teenager anymore._ _

__Stiles chuckled and raised his hands in the air. "YOU CAN COUNT! I don't know why you thought you needed me to tutor you for the math test on Monday." He poked fun at you._ _

__"Shut the fuuuuck up, Stiles. Get back to what we're doing at thirty-six." You kicked him lightly in the shin._ _

__Stiles didn't flinch, he just leaned more on his side so he could look at you better, and smiled. "If in twenty years, when we are thirty-six, and all of our friends are getting married or are already married, and you and I are still sitting at the single's table at their weddings, we marry each other."_ _

__"Yea, okay." You scoffed, smiling and shaking your head at him._ _

__Stiles frowned slightly. "I'm serious, Y/n. Are there worse things than marrying your best friend?"_ _

__You paused, examining the mole next to the left corner of Stiles' mouth and the sweet upturn of his nose and his full and dark eyebrows. Then, your eyes connected with his amber ones again, gently blinking, waiting for your response. You smiled softly, and Stiles smiled in return. "Sounds pretty good to me, actually. We're getting enough apples for the both of us though."_ _

__"I like eating yours though." Stiles pretended to whine._ _

__"More apples or no deal." You threatened, holding your hand out for him to shake._ _

__Stiles pursed his lips, pretending to mull it over. "Alright, more apples." He shook your hand and grinned. "It would be sort of poetic that in my old age-"_ _

__"Of thirty-six?" You mocked him._ _

__"Yes, my old age of thirty six," Stiles ignored you and continued, still holding your hand, no longer shaking it, just holding it against the comforter. "that I marry the girl who was my first kiss."_ _

__"Oh, you just looooove bringing this up." You tore your hand from his and sat up, shaking your head. You got up from the bed, trying to conceal how red your face was becoming, and walked towards your backpack by your desk._ _

__"Well it's just cause it was so cute how red your cheeks got, and how red they get every time I bring it up." You could feel Stiles grinning from behind you._ _

__"Well, it was my first kiss too." You tried to justify your blush, still not turning around to let him see your current redness. "Can we just study for the math test already, so that we can finally watch The Force Awakens tonight." You complained, wanting to move on from the topic at hand._ _

__"You just wanna watch Adam Driver." Stiles teased, watching you dig through your backpack and his for your books._ _

__"Psh. Yea, I do."_ _

__"What does he have that I don't?" He complained, shaking his head at you._ _

__You turned around with a smug grin. "Would you like me to make you a list?"_ _

__The smirk from Stiles' face dropped into an unamused frown. "I think I'll pass, just give me my-" Stiles paused as he felt his phone vibrate, and he fished it out of his pocket._ _

__"Who is it?" You asked, walking over with the stack of books and pencils in your hands. "Stiles?"_ _

__"Don't kill me."_ _

__You dropped the books on his desk, and popped out your hip. "What?"_ _

__"Scott and Allison are coming over." Stiles said, not looking up from the reply he was typing on his phone._ _

__"To study? Borrow sugar? Have sex quietly in your basement while you and I go over what's going to be on Monday's test?" You listed off the only possibilities you wanted to hear about._ _

__Stiles chuckled, then shook his head. You watched as he got off his bed and dumped the contents of his backpack out on to the floor. He glanced up at you as he began digging through his closet for a change of clothes. "Uh, they found Derek, and Scott, Lydia, Malia and I are going to go get him."_ _

__"Why aren't Allison and I in that list of people?"_ _

__"You know why." Stiles frowned at you. "Scott and I don't want you getting hurt, especially after Allison alm-"_ _

__"Almost died. I know. I was there. I was the one that called the ambulance, remember?" You reminded Stiles of the time when the Pack had fought the Oni at the old internment camp, and Allison got stabbed, but made a full recovery in the hospital. "Why does Lydia get to go?" You asked, hoping to not reveal how jealous you got every time he mentioned her._ _

__"She will be able to sense if Derek's already dead or not. Banshee powers, you know?" Stiles peeked out his window and saw Allison's headlights illuminate the back of the Jeep in the driveway._ _

__"Where is Derek?" You asked, slumping down into his desk chair, watching him grab a flashlight from his desk._ _

__Stiles hesitated, squinting up at you in fear. "Mexico?"_ _

__"STILES! You can't go to Mexico!" Stiles frowned. "At least, not without your passport." You pulled open the drawer in his desk behind you, grabbed his passport, and handed it to him._ _

__"You're the best." Stiles rested his hands on your knees and grinned. "I promise, I promise, I promise, I will be back by Monday, and I will pick you up, early, with breakfast, and we will sit in the library and study until school starts. I promise." He crossed his heart with his finger, and waited for you to smile. You didn't. You hated this. He heard the doorbell ring, and he stood. He searched the room for his shoes, which you pointed to by his door, and he smiled at the fact that you always knew what he needed. "Scott and I are going to pick Lydia and Malia up in the Jeep, and Allison is going to take you home." Stiles explained the plan._ _

__"Sti..." You caught his attention, and he paused in place, staring at the sadness in your eyes. It broke his heart._ _

__"You know I'd rather watch Star Wars with you." He frowned, feeling bad for ditching you again._ _

__You shook your head, and stared at him. "It's not that. I know that... You just.. be careful, okay?"_ _

__Stiles smiled, and pulled you out of the chair, ignoring the sound of the front door closing downstairs, and Scott and Allison trudging up the staircase towards his room. He hugged you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder, and you held him for as long as you could. "I'll be fine. I promise. Besides, someone's gotta marry you at thirty-six." Stiles tried to lighten the mood as he separated his body from yours. You rolled your eyes at him one last time, and he smirked. "I love when you do that." He admitted with a chuckle, before Scott opened the door and interrupted your moment. "Yo, Scotty."_ _

__"Hey, you ready to go?" Scott asked Stiles._ _

__"Yep." He grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and glanced at you. "Can you lock up?" He asked, knowing you had a key._ _

__"If I must. Are you texting your Dad or am I writing him a note?" You sighed, watching Allison kiss Scott in the hallway._ _

__"Tell him that we went camping for the weekend." Stiles smirked._ _

__"Oh good, rope me into your lies." You smirked back and shook your head._ _

__Stiles lowered his voice and stepped towards you. "Oh, he'll still love you. I will too, even if you are a liar." He joked, and then left a quick peck on your cheek, that set your entire body on fire. You caught Allison's eyes widening, and a small surprised smirk rise to Scott's lips. "Thirty-six. I'll be careful." He repeated._ _

__You smiled softly and nodded. "Thirty-six."_ _

__You and Allison waved goodbye from the front door as Scott and Stiles loaded into the Jeep and left._ _

__"I can't believe he just kissed you and you definitely still think he doesn't like you." Allison said, watching the Jeep roll down the street and out of view._ _

__You glanced up at her, touching your hand to the cheek where his lips had just been. "Yea, that was weird. Kisses me, offers to marry me, and then runs off with Lydia. I wonder what that's all about." You said sarcastically._ _

__"He what?!" Allison said, closing the door, and following you back up the stairs to get your stuff._ _

_"We made like a joke pact, where if we're still single at thirty-six, we'll marry each other."_

_"Did he bring it up or did you?" Allison asked, leaning against the door frame, watching you scribble the note to the Sheriff on a piece of paper._

_"He did." You answered, not looking up at her smug grin._

_"Oh, come on, Y/n, you have to see it. He is so in love with you."_

_"Yea, okay, we'll see about that when he's married to Lydia in ten years."_

_"I guess we'll see then." Allison said, shutting off the light to Stiles' bedroom as the two of you went downstairs to leave._


	2. The One With The Wedding In Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years later, Stiles and Y/n are twenty-six and partying in Las Vegas in a joint bachelor/bachelorette party for Scott and Allison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my purposes, even though i kind of love Stalia, Stalia never happened in this AU, so Stiles lost his virginity to Lydia.

"Are you nervous about Thursday?" 

"Why?" Stiles answered your question with a question. ' _The Master of Evasion_ ', you thought to yourself with an internal eye roll.

 "Because that is your third whiskey neat, and we're only on cocktails. We haven't even done dinner and the casino yet, Sti." You said with one eyebrow arched in amused concern.

Stiles stared down at his drink, and then looked up at you. "Have you been monitoring me, Giz?" 

You chuckled and shook your head. "Just keeping an eye out. You still haven't answered my question though." You never let him get away with anything.

Stiles rolled his eyes, huffed and then looked at you. "Is there ever going to be a day where you just let me get away with... anything?"

"No." You answered swiftly, which made Stiles snicker. "Is there ever going to be a day when you answer my question?"

"Yes." Stiles answered just as quickly and just as facetiously. 

"Sti." You narrowed your eyes and stared at him, waiting.

"Oh my god, blink. Fine. Yes. Of course, I'm nervous. I haven't seen her since she moved to Massachusetts for good." Stiles finally admitted, taking a large sip from his glass, and sucking on his teeth as the comfortable burn moved down his throat.

You frowned, and moved your hand to his shoulder. You pressed your chin against the soft white cotton of his crisp button down dress shirt, and Stiles glanced down at you, a lopsided frown resting on his face. "What do you think is going to happen?" You asked, lowering your voice again so that only he would hear you.

He glanced down at his drink, swirling the liquid around in his glass, and placed his hand on top of yours, wanting more of the comfort that his best friend always brought him. "I don't know. Nothing. I'm sure it will be thoroughly uneventful. But it will still suck to see them, especially since their.. you know." Stiles trailed off. 

"I know it's not much, but I'll be there. For whatever." You offered, hoping it was some sort of consolation to him.

Stiles smiled. "I know you will, Giz." You grinned at the nickname, then watched as Stiles took his hand from yours and shifted his glass into his now free hand. You sighed, and then listened as Cora began telling a story to the group, that had even Stiles in stitches.

"Oh my god, but do you remember when Derek came back and he was.." Allison was doubled over in her seat laughing, tears streaming down her face, as she struggled to catch her breath in order to finish her thought. Scott licked his lips, laughing at his bride-to-be, and rubbed her back, until she threw her head back up, and wiped away her tears. "...oh my god, oh my god, when... when Derek came back and he was so little and baby, baby Derek because of whatever the fuck Kate did to him in Mexico."

Scott started laughing just as hard, and pointed at Stiles, sitting across the table from him. "And then Stiles introduced him to my Dad as his cousin 'Miguel'."

"Holy fuck, the egg rolls... _I PANICKED, OKAY_?" Stiles yelled, defending himself, before laughing and shaking his head. "And your Dad bought it so, fuck it. It worked."

" **OH MY GOD** , but that wasn't even the funniest part!" Allison interrupted, leaning back against Scott, and clutching her stomach as her laughter overtook the somewhat loud music in the cocktail lounge.

You couldn't help but laugh at the scene that the couple was making across from you, and you turned to smirk at Stiles, sitting next to you on the bench. He laughed at the face you made, and you began laughing a little harder, stuffing your face into his shoulder to stifle your drunken giggles. Stiles chuckled and placed his hand on your bare knee, massaging his long thumb against your thigh. You couldn't bring yourself to look up now that your face was beet red over his intimate touch.

"Oh shit, oh shit, okay, no..." Allison composed herself. "The funniest part was that when I had to babysit him the next day, after school, Y/n didn't realize it was Derek, and she was like ' _he's cute, who is he?_ '" Allison devolved into hysterics again. 

"You thought _Derek_ was cute?!" Scott asked, mostly in a yell, and devolved into his own fit of giggles.

You felt Stiles' hand pull away from your knee, and you felt your heart sink a little. The drunken part of you was letting you fall back into old patterns of having a crush on Stiles again, or at the very least, not letting you suppress anymore of what had always been there under the surface. You pulled your face from his shoulder and glanced up at him, watching him chug down the last half of his third whiskey neat. You sighed. You knew him and Derek were generally at odds, and you didn't want him dwelling on something that obviously annoyed him. 

"We were all stupid at sixteen, _okay_?" You defended yourself, before downing the rest of your mojito, and watched as Isaac began telling a new story from the old days.

" _Can I get you another?_ " The waitress asked Stiles, placing her hand on his shoulder for an elongated moment.

"Definitely." Stiles replied, half smiling up at her and handing her his empty glass.

" _Ahem_." You faked cleared your throat, and poked him in the thigh with your pointer finger. You saw him smile and snicker, and it made your heart feel a little lighter again. 

"And another mojito for the lady." He told the waitress, who frowned at you and then walked away. 

"Well, she's going to spit in my drink." You joked to Stiles, a grin spreading across your face. 

"What?" Stiles asked, not understanding that you were implying that the waitress was flirting with him. He furrowed his brow, but remained smirking. 

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. "Nevermind." Stiles smirk grew into a full blown, toothy beam, and you tilted your head to the side in wonder. "What are you grinning at?"

"I still love when you do that." He admitted, something he would remind you from time to time over the years.

"You kind of have to, you see me do it all the time to you." You teased him, as you watched him sip from the rim of your fresh mojito. "Excuse you, Stilinski, that is mine."

"So defensive about your mojitos." He smirked and shook his head, then handed you the glass. "I was drinking off the spit layer for you, you ungrateful little gremlin." He teased. 

You half laughed, half scoffed, and fully smiled. "You were being so kind there until you called me a ' _gremlin_ '." You shook your head and then took the straw in between your teeth to suck down the rum, mint and simple syrup mixture. 

"You love when I call you Gizmo." He rolled his eyes at you.

"I do.. because Gizmo is fluffy and cute. The gremlins, not so much." You replied.

Stiles had given you the nickname in college, when he went to GW and you went to Georgetown. He decided that you only got your bursts of energy in the middle of the night, so you would call him, wake him up, and tell him to meet you in the Georgetown library to do homework. He always did. He tended to fall asleep on top of his books, but he always came anyway. You loved him for it. If anyone thought that you and Stiles were best friends in elementary school, or in high school, they were proven completely wrong when you came back from college, all but literally attached at the hip. The both of you going to universities across the country from Beacon Hills, in D.C., really bonded you in new ways. You relied on each other fully.

You drunkenly leaned back against the tall back of the padded bench seat that you and Stiles were sharing, still sipping on your straw. "You know that marriage pact that we made was also made the weekend Derek came back in teenage form." You said quietly, so that only Stiles would hear you, trying to elicit a good memory from the Derek story for him. 

You opened your eyes when you felt Stiles weight shift the padding on the seat. He had turned his whole body away from the conversation happening with the rest of your friends, and was now fully focused on you, a lopsided smile resting on his lips. You rolled your own lips back into your mouth, gently wetting them with your tongue and suddenly remembering the dark red matte lipstick that you had applied earlier. You shifted and suddenly your knees were touching, but Stiles remained staring at your y/e/c eyes. You felt the tiny hairs the covered your body stand on edge as Stiles' breath lightly made its way against your chest. You shifted in your slinky black silk dress, pushing your leg against his more. You were unsure if the alcohol or Stiles' proximity had you more intoxicated at the moment. 

"I haven't thought about that pact in a while." Stiles ran his sinewy fingers into his chocolate brown hair, and you felt warm. "Not since college.." 

"Since the night you made me reaffirm that the pact was still a thing because you were going to die alone otherwise?" You tried to maintain your usual level of sarcasm in order to not let him on to the fact that you were flustered by his closeness. 

Stiles lopsided smile turned into a crooked frown and he hummed in agreement before speaking again. "Well, Lydia had just broken up with me, and so far, I'm not doing anything to convince anyone that I'm _not_ going to die alone." His joke had a darkness to it that you didn't like. 

You pressed your hand on top of Stiles', resting in between the both of you, concealed from the eyes of all your friends, if they were to look over. You had no idea if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, however, you were entirely too enthralled in your exchange with your best friend. Stiles glanced down at your touch, then looked up at you slowly. You watched as his eyes scanned your body, lingering for a moment too long on your low cut dress. He finally connected with your eye, and he turned his hand so that your palm was resting in his palm. He squeezed and you got goosebumps.

You had held his hand on five separate occasions. The first was when everyone sat in the waiting room of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital during Allison's surgery the night of the Oni. The second was when your dad died and Stiles sat in the church pew with you, even though he hadn't been in a church since his mother had died, and he always vowed to never go back into one. The third was the night that Derek brought him into the hospital in D.C. because Stiles had gotten his toe blown off in some FBI raid gone wrong. The fourth was the night Lydia broke up with him. The fifth time was two nights later when he got so drunk that he got kicked out of a bar for trying and failing to start a fight with a guy that he felt had been rude to you. This was the sixth, and arguably the most drunken time of all. 

The sound of the waitress' voice interrupted your intimate gaze. " _Would you like another round?_ "

Stiles didn't even look up. "Yea, for the both of us, please."

"You're not going to die alone, Stilinski. You have me and you have the pact." You reassured him, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. 

"What if you get into a relationship, or get married yourself?" Stiles whispered, a melancholy tone in his voice.

"I wouldn't do that to you." 

"Some guy is going to snatch you up, Giz. It's only a matter of time. I don't know how it hasn't happened yet." Stiles reassured you.

He looked up at the waitress handing him his drink, and he placed it on the table, then handed you your fresh cocktail. You took a large sip, and watched as Stiles then did the same, finally, he placed both of the beverages on the table closest to him. He returned to his previous position, and retook your hand in his. This was the first time in your life that you had to remind yourself to breathe. 

"It doesn't matter, I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't leave you alone like that.... You would though."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, and contorted his mouth into an angry frown. "What do you mean _I would_?"

"Are you telling me that if Lydia Martin dumped Jordan and came running back to you, confessing her love and telling you she wanted to have your children, you wouldn't go sprinting off into the sunset with her?" Your sentence was a little dramatic but you got your point across, you reached across Stiles' lap, your hand remaining in his, and grabbed your drink. This conversation had you aching for some more liquid courage. The sweet beverage went down quickly and easily. 

Stiles shook his head. "We've been broken up for years, Y/n. _Years_. I'm over it. I'm over her. I'm going to die alone because you're gonna find some guy better than me, and you're going to marry him, and I'll just be the idiot guy who let the best girl in the world slip through his fingers."

" _Lydia_..." You drunkenly surmised, not understanding what Stiles was really saying. 

Stiles chortled. "No, not Lydia. _You_ , you doofus." He squeezed your hand tighter, his pointer finger extended and stroking lightly against the soft skin of the inside of your wrist. 

"I don't underst...." You trailed off, shaking your head. 

" _You_ are the best girl in the world, Giz. I had such a crush on you growing up, and then again in college after Lydia and I broke up. I'm going to be heartbroken when you find some other guy better than me." Stiles dropped his gaze from your eyes, to your interlocked hands, and only looked back up when he heard your voice again.

"How come you never said anything?" You spoke softly, your voice betraying you as it divulged that you were hurt.

"You always made it clear that I was _just_ your best friend." Stiles admitted, his voice betraying him as well. He began to pull his hand away from yours, but you gripped tightly and stopped him. His eyes shot up to yours, as you spoke lowly but clearly. 

"There is no man better than you, Mieczysław Stilinski. You should have said something." You looked almost angry, as you shook your head. 

"Why should I have said something, Y/n?" Stiles asked in a whisper, as he moved his face closer to yours. 

You looked down, staring at the long brown hair peeking out from under his sleeves, a feature of his that you always found very masculine and sexy, but right now was just something to distract you from admitting the truth. "You should've said something because maybe it could've been us getting married on Saturday then." 

Stiles drank in your words and let them soak for a moment. He shook his head, trying to fully grasp what you were telling him. "Did you like me?" 

"You really _never_ knew?" Your eyes looked sad and glossy. 

Stiles shook his head, maintaining his eye contact with you, and squeezed your hand. "Y/n, I swear, if I had-"

" _ **Drunks**_ , did you hear us?" Cora nudged you in the shoulder and cut Stiles off. At the same time, you both pulled your hands away and looked up at Cora. "I guess not.. we're going to dinner."

" _Okay_. Yea, we're coming." Stiles answered her, digging his fingers into his eyelid. He downed the entirety of his whiskey, no longer remembering what number that was. He suddenly thought that maybe some food might do him some good so that he could have this conversation with some more sobriety. He watched as you downed the remainder of your drink as well, and he stood, holding his hand out to help you up. You wobbled a little in your heels and your drunkenness. He smiled, and pulled your hand through his arm, keeping you steady. He paused and looked down at you before walking after Cora to dinner. "I wanna keep talking about this later, Y/n." He whispered, a seriousness returning to his facial expression. 

"I do too, Sti." He loved that you were pretty much the only person in the world that called him that. It sparked a flutter in his heart that always happened when you said it, but this time he acted on it. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss against your cheek, his nose brushing against your ear and his hand holding yours a little tighter. 

* * *

You woke up, opened your eyes, saw the room spinning and closed your eyes again. Your head was _pounding_. Jackhammer on the highest speed possible kind of pounding. Floyd Mayweather beating against a punching bag during the prime of his career kind of pounding. You groaned, bringing your hand up to your temple and rubbing, trying to physically will the headache away. You groaned again when it didn't leave, and suddenly felt a soft hand, that was not yours, press against your head. You adjusted your cheek, and realized that whatever you were resting on did not feel like a pillowcase. It was bare skin. You sighed. What had you done now? You supposed twenty-six was as good as time as ever and Las Vegas was as good as place as any to start seeing if one-night stands were for you.

You were afraid to open your eyes again, and not just cause the room was going to be spinning again. You decided to carefully search with your hand, not knowing what kind of results you would find with a stranger. Soft skin seemed like a plus; at least he wasn't a leper, you thought to yourself. You found a healthy amount of chest hair, concentrated between his pectoral muscles, and you were reminded of how Stiles had the same patch of chest hair. You moved your hand up to his shoulder and suddenly felt the bumps of a subtle scar, in the same place as where Stiles' scar from Donovan biting him was. This was beginning to feel like too much of a coincidence. You had to risk the carnival ride-like spinning of your eyes opening to see who it was that you were sleeping against.

You moved much less gracefully or quiet this time, opened your eyes, and pulled your head up, glancing up at the sleeping man holding you tightly. _Stiles_. It was him. " _What the fuck_." You said aloud, causing Stiles' eyes to flutter open. A soft smile spread across his mouth, and put you at ease. 

"Well, this is a surprise, Giz." He whispered, glancing down at you, then dropping his head back down against the pillow beneath him, and shutting his eyes again, his hands remaining around you.

"I slept here last night?" You grumbled, closing your eyes quickly and resting your head back against his bare chest.

"I guess so." Stiles whispered groggily in reply. 

You ran your fingers through his chest hair for a few minutes, until it occurred to you that you were running your fingers through your best friend of twenty years' chest hair, meaning he was shirtless and you were in bed with him. Your eyes snapped open and the room stopped spinning. This was a sobering moment. " _Stiles_ , why are you shirtless in bed with me right now?"

"What?" He moaned softly, not understanding what you were getting at. 

"Stiles, wake up." You said a little louder, groaning at the loudness of your own voice. 

Stiles picked his head up again to look at you, then laughed. "Cause you're wearing my shirt, doofus." 

You glanced down at your chest and saw his, now wrinkled, white dress shirt engulfing your body. You suddenly felt the sheets against your bare legs and you felt fear. " _Stiles_..." You began cautiously. He hummed in reply. "Did we...."

"What, Giz?" Not even his nickname was calming you. 

"Did we have sex last night?" You whispered, unable to hide your panic. 

Stiles head shot back up, and he looked down at you. He then lifted the sheet off of his torso and your body, and saw his dark blue dress pants. "I'm still wearing pants, so I don't think we were drunk enough to have sex." 

You sighed. "But why am I wearing your shirt?" You asked, still concerned.

Stiles realized his intense need to pee and he began getting up. He yelled from the bathroom, over the sound of his stream hitting the water in the toilet bowl, hoping he wasn't loud enough to upset you. _He was_. You covered your ears but still heard every word. "I don't know, Y/n. You can be bossy when you're drunk. You probably didn't want to sleep in your dress, so you made me give you my shirt. I'm sure we didn't have sex." You pulled the unbuttoned sleeves of his long shirt over your hands, and moved your hands over your eyes, trying to block the light coming in through the blinds that you hadn't closed in your drunken stupor the night before.

"I welcome death." You grumbled, dragging your hand over your face.

"You want a water, Giz?" Stiles asked, as you heard the mini fridge open. 

"Yes, please. Close the blinds too, Sti." You requested. 

"Yes, ma'am." He complied, tossing the bottle onto the bed next to you. You opened it as you heard the curtains moving along the track above the window. "Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked.

You chugged the water, screwed the lid back on the plastic bottle, dropped it next to you, and placed your shirt-sleeve covered hands back over your eyes. You groaned, feeling somewhat nauseous, but spoke anyway. "Um, I remember my second mojito. I don't remember any of the rest of the cocktail hour. I remember sobering up slightly with dinner. _Dancing_?" You questioned, contorting your face into a grimace under your hands. "I think I very vaguely remember dancing. Like _grinding_.... Oh god, Sti, were we grinding? _Jesus fuck_..." You groaned for a whole new reason now. 

You could hear Stiles chugging his water, and you felt him lay down at the foot of the bed. "I remember none of the cocktail hour. Literally none of it. I remember the end of dinner. I guess the food sobered me up a little too. I definitely remember you grinding up on this _dick_." Stiles emphasized his final word obnoxiously, chuckling slightly. 

" **Stilinski**!" You yelled, before groaning at your own loudness and kicking at him. 

He snickered and continued speaking. "If we went to gamble after, I don't remember it. Actually, I kind of remember leaving the casino grounds.." Stiles corrected himself.

"Was I with you?" You asked, taking another large sip of your water. Stiles didn't answer you and you heard him get up from the bed. " _Stiles_?" You peeked out from behind your eyes, it was much darker but you could see him staring at something. You covered your face again, and spoke his name once more. "Stiles... What is it?"

"Look at your hand, Y/n." His voice was much more low, stern and deliberate than before. 

"What?" 

" **LOOK AT YOUR HAND, Y/N**!" He raised his voice and you cringed at the sound. You lifted your right hand off of your face, opened your right eye, shimmied the sleeve from off your hand and glanced. It was your hand, and he was an idiot.

You shrugged. "What about it?"

"Your other hand, Y/n." Stiles insisted. 

"Stiles, just tell-" You stopped yourself as you stared at the thin silver band wrapped around your ring finger on your left hand. You shot up in bed, immediately regretting the motion, and you laid back down. "Oh god, I'm gonna be sick." You mumbled. You heard Stiles' feet shuffling and then you felt the mattress to your right tilt down. You looked over and saw him, carrying worried eyes and the trashcan from the bathroom. 

"You okay?" He asked, the kindness that you had grown accustomed to with him returning to his voice, as he handed you the plastic covered pail and stroked your hair away from your forehead. 

You nodded, staring up at him. "Got up too quickly." You hesitated, holding the trashcan in your hands. "Do you have one?" 

Stiles lifted his left hand from his lap, and showed off the silver band around his ring finger. "I think I remember." He whispered, sadness remaining on his face, as he finally ceased stroking your hair. 

"What happened?" You whispered. 

"I don't know, Giz. I only vaguely remember Elvis marrying us in a cheesy chapel.. The kiss was pretty good though, I think." He tried to lighten the mood but you weren't biting. 

"We got married?" You asked, trying to clarify what he was saying. 

"Uh.." Stiles put his hands in his pockets, trying to find his phone, and pulled out a piece of folded up paper instead. "Yea, I think, pretty fucking officially too." He handed you the paper, but you refused. 

"What is it?" You asked, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows. 

"A legitimate looking marriage certificate. Uh.. I know we had the marriage pact, Giz, but this was _literally_ ten years too early." Stiles attempted to make you laugh again.

You sent him an unamused frown, and he sighed. "Let's just get dressed and go figure out how we can get it annulled. No one ever has to know, Y/n." 

Your heads snapped around at the sound of a loud knocking on Stiles' door. It echoed through the room a second time as Stiles didn't answer the first. " _Shit_." Stiles got up and went to answer the door, and you slid off the bed and laid on the floor next to it, hiding. 

"Hey, Al." Stiles said loudly, as you heard heels connecting with the white carpeting in the room. 

"Have you heard or seen Y/n? I've been calling her all morning, I knocked on her door, I got the manager to let me into her room. She isn't there. I don't know where she is and I'm worried." Allison spoke quickly, surveying the state of the room. Stiles glanced at your black dress and heels on the tile floor of his bathroom and he closed the door. 

"Sorry, I was getting sick all morning. It smells. I drank way too much last night." He faked a half smile, then answered her questions. "Um, yea, Y/n texted me a while ago. She went for a swim in the pool and then she was meeting me for breakfast."

"We're all down at the restaurant waiting for you two and none of us saw her." Allison replied, slightly annoyed. 

"Um, yes. _That_ is because she is at the continental breakfast in the hotel lobby. We forgot about the breakfast you planned. _Sorry_. I'll text her and we'll be right down." Stiles tried to keep Allison by the front door. 

"Fine. We'll order you guys some water. The two of you drank a ton last night and then disappeared. Mason and Corey were convinced you guys were having sex somewhere." 

Stiles' eyes widened, and he pursed his lips, glancing at his hand before shoving it in his pocket. "Nope. That is not what we did last night." 

You sighed softly and rolled your eyes. " _Idiot_." You whispered. 

Allison heard the faint noise and looked back into the hotel room. She paused. "Stiles, what is that?"

Stiles' heart dropped into his stomach, and he quickly surveyed the room for a clue of your presence. "What is what?"

"That basket of apples..." Allison pointed to his desk. "Did you steal the apples from the continental breakfast downstairs?"

Stiles snickered. He vaguely remembered doing it. "I guess so. Listen, Al, let me call Y/n, and get dressed. I'll be right down."

"Fine." Allison left, and Stiles came around the side of the bed. 

"We're not going to have time to do this today, Y/n." He squatted onto the floor and saw your bare legs bent at the knees and you curled up around the trashcan. 

"What do you mean?"

"It's Wednesday now, right?" He asked. You nodded. "We have this breakfast, then we fly back to Beacon Hills at two, which means we need to be at the airport by noon, and it's nine now."

"Shit." You hissed. "Okay, rehearsal dinner is Thursday, last minute prep is Friday, the wedding is Saturday-"

"And that brunch thing on Sunday." Stiles reminded you.

"And you're working all next week, right?" Stiles nodded. "Okay, um, well, are you down to drive out here next Friday night or Saturday morning or something?"

"What judge is going to see us on the weekend?" Stiles asked. 

"Right. Take off work next next Monday?" 

"I guess so." Stiles confirmed, before dropping fully to the floor next to you, and gripping your knee in his large hands. "I'm sorry, Giz." Stiles whispered, sadness dripping from those three words. 

You shook your head, connecting your bloodshot eyes with his. "It happens.... _apparently_." You reassured him.

"At least we didn't draw on each other's faces in permanent marker." Stiles laughed, and you couldn't help but laugh too.

"Ross and Rachel?" You asked, confirming that he was talking about Friends. 

" _See_ , I married you because you get me, Giz." Stiles joked, to which you immediately glared at him. "Too soon?" He nodded once, pursing his lips and closing his eyes. " _Too soon_. Got it... I'm gonna get dressed, we'll go to your room, get you changed, and then head down there?" You nodded. "Why don't you give me your ring and I'll hold on to them both. Hopefully I can find the receipt to these things." He asked, as you handed him your wedding band and he pulled his off, and stuffed them both in his pocket before beginning to get up from the floor. 

"Sti...." You spoke quietly. He glanced down at you, then tracked your line of sight over to the desk. "You stole a basket of apples." 

Stiles smiled down at you, a bashful pink color suddenly covering his cheeks. He shrugged. "I guess regardless of how drunk I was, I remembered my promise about enough apples for the both of us."


	3. The One With The Rehearsal Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles runs into Lydia for the first time in years and begins perpetrating a lie that you get roped into.

You sipped your gingerale out of the thin black straw, wishing it was spiked with something more and longingly staring at the trays full of champagne flutes roaming around the floor, but you remained sipping on your fully dry soda. You were having trouble trusting yourself with alcohol after what had happened Tuesday night. You stood against a back wall, by the picture table, barely listening to Coach Finstock drone on and on about how he always thought of Scott as a son. You forced a smile, and nodded, until you made eye contact with Stiles from across the room. 

"Shit, uh, sorry, Coach. Excuse me, for a minute?" You fled before hearing Finstock's reply, and dipped into the hallway bordering the actual restaurant and the private room, hoping he hadn't seen you.

"You're avoiding me." You rolled your eyes at the world; you didn't know why you bothered hoping for things. 

"Yes, I am, and you tracking me down isn't aiding me in that effort, so if you'll excuse me.." You tried to slip past him, back into the party, but he gripped his hand tightly around your wrist. 

"It's kind of impressive actually. I stood with you in the back of the cabin, I walked you down the aisle, and you still managed to avoid talking to me earlier.. and now."

"I'm an impressive woman, I don't know what to tell you." You tried to get your wrist from his grip, but all it did was make him move his body closer to yours, closing you in against the wall. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and you stared up at his face. 

"Why are you avoiding me? Nothing has changed."

Your eyes grew wide, and you tilted your head to the side, glaring at him. "Nothing, noth-... nothing has changed? Are you? Do you have amnesia?" Your voice was raised until you saw a waiter walk by, examining the scene taking place between you and Stiles. You lowered your tone and spoke in a whisper. "We got married, you dipshit. That's a pretty big fucking change, if you ask me.. or any sane person." 

"We're going to take care of it, Giz. I promise." 

"Don't ' _Gizmo_ ' me,  _Mieczysław_. I am not in the mood." 

" _Ugh_ , the Mrs. is so fiesty." Stiles quipped, with a shit eating grin, to a different waiter passing by. You punched him in the abdomen and he hunched over, whimpering. "Oh, what the  _hell_ , Y/n." He asked rhetorically, clutching his stomach. 

"I will kill you. Stop telling people." You seethed. 

"It was a joke." Stiles pulled you back as you tried to escape again while he was distracted by his pain. "Y/n... You can't avoid me. I need you. You were supposed to be my wingman with Lydia. I can only avoid her for so long. She's been... circling." 

Your face fell at the mention of her name and Stiles noticed it, assuming it was from the guilt of abandoning him. You sighed. "I can't do this. I am so  _flipped_   _out_  over what happened. I feel like you keep thinking it's ' _Vegas_   _marriage_ ', but it's fucking  **MARRIAGE** , Stiles. You're on your own with Lydia tonight. I'm not sorry."

You finally struggled your way out of his grip and walked away, ignoring his quiet yells after you. You  _were_  sorry and you felt like an asshole, but you were all over the place with what had happened. You had dreamed about marrying Stiles when you were younger. You had even allowed yourself to fantasize about it after he and Lydia broke up at the beginning of Sophomore year of college, and if you were being fully honest with yourself, you had thought about how nice it would be if the pact did happen ten years from now, but this, this was not even in the realm of how you ever thought you would end up committed to Stiles Stilinski. The last thing that you wanted was to spend time with him and Lydia Martin, watching him pine over her and his past. It didn't matter that her and Jordan Parrish had gotten engaged six months prior, you didn't trust her, and you also felt for her. There was something intoxicating and charming and welcoming about Stiles that made him hard to ignore and even harder to deny.

You could feel the drama filling the air around you, and it filled you with dread. You finally indulged yourself, grabbing a champagne flute from the floating trays circling the room, and you sat down at a table with Scott's grandparents, not saying anything, just watching Stiles chatting with Scott's college roommate, one of the groomsmen, across the room. You clocked Lydia, chatting with Malia and Parrish on the other side of the room. The overwhelming feeling of impending doom caused you to sip heavily on your favorite alcohol. 

"Y/n." You didn't turn your head, you simply glanced from the corner of your eye to see who had sat down next to you.

"Scott.." You mumbled as you brought the flute back up to your lips and sipped. 

"What the hell is going on with you and Stiles?" He asked, leaning his hand against his crooked jaw and staring at you, waiting for you to answer. 

"Nothing."

" _Werewolf_ , Y/n." 

"Right. Stupid fucking heartbeat." You rolled your eyes and finally looked at Scott. "It's nothing. Stop listening to my heartbeat, and just let me lie and not worry you, and tell you that it is nothing."

Scott shook his head. "Is it Lydia being here? Cause if I had my way, she wouldn't have been invited, not after what happened and how she just ditched us all, but Al-"

You cut Scott off. You loved his loyalty, but you didn't want to start a conversation about Lydia Martin again. "She's part of it, but it's nothing for you to worry about. Stiles and I are fine. Just a small thing. It's fine."

"Y/n..." Scott worried anyway. "I can smell your anxiety."

"Well, unsmell it, friend. I'm fine. Please,  _seriously_ , Scott.." You paused and placed your hand on top of his over the back of the chair he was sitting in. "We are just having a disagreement. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"You guys never disagree."

"We  _always_  disagree, what are you talking about?" You argued, sipping on your diminishing drink.

"No, you don't. Not really."

You rolled your eyes. "Go tell Allison that Stiles and I are fine. Still best friends. Still your best man and head bridesmaid."

"Will you just call it a ' _maid of honor_ '?" Scott got distracted by your wording. 

"I will not. It's sexist and stupid. I am not a maid, I should not be punished for being single.. I, you know what? Just, we're getting off topic. Stiles and I are fine." You put your hands up in front of you, defending yourself from his concerns. 

" _Fine_. Allison will have a fucking meltdown if the two of you are fighting. She is this," Scott pinched his fingers together tightly. "close to pulling out her bow and murdering every person in this room."

You widened your eyes and then chuckled. "Oh god,  _that_  is why she is my best friend." You shook your head and smiled. When you glanced up, you saw Stiles watching you, smiling at your lighter mood. You broke your eye contact with him and glanced back to Scott, the smile fading from your lips. "Go take care of your borderline homicidal bride-to-be, you lucky wolf, I'm fine." You shoved your hand into his shoulder and squeezed. 

He chuckled and shook his head. "I need new best friends and a new fiancée, you three are too dramatic." He mumbled to you jokingly before walking off to find Allison. 

You leaned back in your chair, your legs crossed and the slit from your turquoise wrap dress climbing up your thigh, and you killed the rest of your champagne. You grabbed a waiter by the jacket before he could walk past you with the tray of fresh champagne and you watched as Scott's roommate abandoned Stiles, and Lydia approached him like a shark circling her prey. You felt pity. You watched as she and Parrish awkwardly hugged Stiles and you openly cringed. You sipped at your drink, and grimaced as Lydia left her hand on Stiles' arm for a bit too long. Parrish glanced over at you and you made zero efforts to hide your facial expression. He laughed lightly to himself. You always liked Parrish, and he had a phenomenal smile; it made you smirk. You lifted your glass to him in the distance and he gently nodded. You went back to watching Stiles and Lydia's painful interaction, and you grimaced as he scratched at the back of his neck. He was dying by himself. Regardless of what you were going through with him, he was still your best friend, of two decades, and you couldn't leave him out to dry like that any longer. You approached, and placed your hand on his shoulder. He sighed openly when he smelled your familiar vanilla perfume.

Stiles turned and quickly and instinctively, wrapped his arm around your waist, hugging you tightly against him. You glanced up at him, even in six inch heels, you still had to look up at the stunningly tall man, and saw nothing short of pure gratitude in his amber eyes. You shot him a lopsided smile, and then turned to Lydia and Jordan. "Hey Lydia." You waved awkwardly. "Hey Jordan. Long time, man. It's good to see you." Jordan you hugged warmly, and he returned the gesture. As he released you from his arms, you felt Stiles' long fingers hook around your hipbone again, and you were pulled back to his side once more. You watched as Lydia's eyes connected with the embrace and then widened. 

" _Oh my god_..." Lydia began laughing. "Did this finally happen?" She barely gestured between you and Stiles.

"Did what?" You asked, unclear of what she meant, internally panicking over if Lydia somehow knew that you and Stiles were married, although you wouldn't know how she would unless Stiles had blurted it out before you had walked over. You squeezed his hand tightly and heard him groan softly at your rough embrace. 

" _This_.  _You_." Lydia smirked and brought the rim of her champagne flute up to press against her mouth. "Oh my god, I knew it would."

You glanced up at Stiles who looked like he was frantically trying to get the wheels in his head turning. You could see the panic covering his face, until he spoke. "Yes."

"Yes  _what_?" You asked him, or anyone that would tell you what the hell was happening. 

"Oh my god.  _Finally_."

" _What_?!" You raised your voice and let your annoyance with this farce of a conversation drip through your single word. You glanced at Parrish, who's brows were furrowed in confusion as well and all he did was shrug. 

Lydia caught Parrish's shoulder twitch and she filled him in. "They finally got together."

"Oh.  _Congrats_." Parrish smiled genuinely. 

"Yep. Thanks, man." Stiles nodded once, pursing his lips together. 

You blinked for a moment, glanced up at Stiles, and subtly mouthed ' **WHAT** ' to him. Stiles gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you knew that the only word in his mind was ' _please_ ', repeated on a loop. The only thing in your mind was how in the hell this was how your week was going. You finished your silent conversation with your best friend and finally nodded once. Relief flooded his features. You leaned your head against his shoulder, and felt your hairline vibrate as he spoke again. 

"We didn't want to be obvious and make you uncomfortable. We know you haven't been back here in a while and we didn't want to make you feel like you weren't welcome just because Y/n and I are together now." Stiles made up a shoddy cover story but it was the best he could do with what he had.

Lydia shifted uncomfortably in place, and then tried to cover it with a smile. You tried to keep from rolling your eyes. "I know I kind of fell out of touch with everyone, but I thought this would be the kind of thing that Ally would tell me about."

"We asked her not to..." You finally spoke. Your annoyance with the strawberry blonde was about to become apparent. "I asked her not to. Frankly, I didn't really think it was any of your business, Lyds. Not anymore." 

Lydia narrowed her eyes at you and smirked. The two of you were never the closest of friends once she joined the Pack, and even less so when her and Stiles finally got together, but this was open hostility, and Lydia liked it. It meant you were a worthy opponent and she welcomed the challenge.

"Still so protective of him.  _Hmm_." She mocked without actually mocking. You sneered at her, until Stiles intervened.  

"Uhhhh,  _um_ , excuse us, I just remembered that we have to go take care of something. Hold on. We'll be right back." He forced a smile and held his long pointer finger up in front of him, then pulled you away to the side of the room.

"You have  _got_  to chill with the aggression, Giz. You're like  _this_  close to going full Gremlin, fed after midnight crazy on her." Stiles joked.

You glared up at him. " _I. Am. Going. To. Murder. You._ " You annunciated every last word.

"I'm sorry. I panicked. She was always jealous of you. I knew that. I took advantage of it."

"This is insane, Stiles. First.." You looked around the room, and pulled him back into the hallway where prying ears could hear less of your conversation. You hushed your tone regardless. "First, we get married, now we're in a fake relationship. Why is this how my week is going?" You asked rhetorically, shaking your head and staring off into the distance.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, Y/n, just  _please_. I never ask you for anything."

"You ask me for foot rubs and dinner  _all_  the fucking time. Try again." You stared at him with a no nonsense look plastered on your face.

Stiles did try again. "She can't know I lied. I will never ask anything from you again. You are my best friend in the entire world. I need you right now." Stiles begged. He never seriously begged. He was pulling at your remaining heartstrings.

You sighed, rolled your head, cracking your neck, and looked up into his soft and desperate amber eyes. "We need a story."

Stiles grinned and nodded. He instantly understood what you were saying. It helped that you and Stiles basically lived on your own separate wavelength, away from the rest of the world. "Okay, we got together four years ago during junior year... I just blurted out my undying love for you one night." He proposed.

"Your undying love?" You asked sarcastically, with an eye roll that you just couldn't help.

Stiles ignored you. "Yep. My undying love... and uhh... what else?"

"We live together now?" You asked, trying not to relish in the idea.

"Yes!" Stiles grinned enthusiastically. "Great and uh, how about Cespedes is  _OUR_  dog, not just  _my_  dog."

"Cespedes basically  _is_  my dog." You corrected him, referring to Stiles' sweet rescue mutt who you dogsat more often then not when Stiles would get stuck working long night shifts with the FBI.

Stiles smirked. "True, but not the point....  _Well,_  sort of the point. Are we getting married?" Stiles asked, not thinking about his query. 

You looked at him completely deadpan. "Seriously, Stiles?  _Seriously_?" Your y/e/c eyes widened like saucers. 

"Also not the point." Stiles tried to calm you.

You threw your hands up in front of you, and Stiles caught one in his. "This is the weirdest week of my life." You lamented. 

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head at your dramatics. "It's been less than two days." He narrowed his eyes at you and smiled.

"And  _yet_ , I've aged forty years. Look at these bags!" You brought your champagne flute holding hand up to your face and pushed your pointer finger against the subtle bags under your eyes.

Stiles paused, still holding your hand in his, and you got caught up in his stare for a moment. "You don't have bags. Ever, but especially not now. You look beautiful tonight, Y/n. If you hadn't been avoiding me earlier, I would've been able to tell you that." He admitted quietly, leaning into you slightly, his breath moving through the stray hairs framing your face.

You paused from your bickering mindset and softened into an almost smile. "Thank you." You put your glass down on an empty nearby table, and brought your now free hand up to press against his chest, feeling the silky fabric of his black dress shirt against the pads of your fingertips. "You look really handsome actually... This black-on-black thing is kind of working for you, Stilinski." Stiles smirked and blushed, and suddenly you felt your heart skip a beat. 

"Does it seem familiar?" He asked, stepping forward a little more, licking his lips and staring intently at you.

You ran your fingers down the front of the smooth, black shirt, noticing that the buttons were hidden under a strip of fabric, giving it a sleek look that you found very sexy. "Was I with you when you bought it?" You asked, trying not to stare at his wet, pink lips in front of you. 

Stiles nodded slowly and smiled. "The shoes too."

You glanced down at his shiny, jet black dress shoes and you took a deep breath. There was something about seeing him look so put together and well dressed that was really turning you on. "You're fucking with me right now with the shoes, and I don't appreciate it."

Stiles smirked. "Because I know you have a thing for a man in a good pair of shoes and a well-fitting suit? I had to look good for my wife." He bit his lower lip slightly, eyeing you like a piece of meat.

You sighed annoyedly, and brought your hand back up against his chest, trying to push him away so you could breathe again. "I never should've told you that." 

"We're going to have to kiss." He whispered suddenly, slowly leaning in, staring at your lips. 

"I give you  _ONE_  compliment and you-" You began raising your voice at him.

Stiles' loud laugh interrupted you. "To sell this, we are definitely going to have to kiss. Lydia is going to be at the wedding, and the brunch thing on Sunday, and Scott told me she's going to be sticking around town this week, so we're going to have to kiss at some point." He explained. 

" _Right_..." You nodded, staring at your hand still pressed against his muscular body. The FBI was good to any man or woman who thought that Stiles was attractive before, because  _now_  he had a thick and muscular build that you did not mind at all. 

"I haven't kissed you since I was thirteen."

"If you bring up our first kiss again, I'm not doing this." You scolded him. 

"Y/n?"

"Yea?"

" _Shut up_." Stiles brought his hand up to hover over your jaw, his pinky connecting with the soft skin of your throat. He tilted his head to the side, fluttered his eyes closed, and suddenly his lips were pressed against yours. You felt like you were having a coronary. Your chest tightened, your mind cleared, and you had chills all over your body. You scrunched the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and pulled him closer. He softly tucked your bottom lip between his lips and then moved up to your top lip. 

" _What the fuck_?" A voice echoed through your ears that was all too familiar. " _Guys_."

" _Oh what in the_?" A second voice echoed the first.

" _Finally_." A third voice smugly commented.

You broke from the kiss slowly, ignoring the growing crowd of voices next to you and stared up at Stiles. His eyes were still closed and his hand finally settled into the crook of your neck, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He licked his lips and sighed softly from his mouth. " _Wow_."

" _Definitely_  better than thirteen." You whispered, smiling as you saw a smirk spread across Stiles' lips over your comment. "We still have an audience."

"What? Oh, shit...  _shit_ , we have to tell people. People are supposed to know. What if she talks to people and-" Stiles spiraled quickly and you felt your heart sink having to talk about Lydia again, and not getting to talk about the fact that Stiles' first reaction to that mind blowing kiss was to say ' _wow_ '.

" _Right_. Liam, Mason, Corey, spread the word. Stiles and I are now in a fake-relationship."

"This is because of Lydia?" Corey asked, always in tune with what was going on. 

You nodded and smiled at your favorite of the puppy pack. " _Yeaaap_. Stiles is a  _dipshit_  and roped me into this, and now he's roping in the rest of..  _well_ ,  _everyone_." 

"So what's the story?" Mason asked, already into the idea of the deception. 

"Been together for four years, live together at Stiles' place, I guess. We bought Cespedes together and you've heard that Stiles has been shopping around for rings." You explained the farce you were perpetrating.

"Who do we tell?" Liam asked. 

"You take the left half of the room, Y/n and I will take the right." Stiles directed them. 

"We tell Scott and Allison first."

"Then my Dad."

"Oh  _great_ , he'll love this."

"Um, you better get on it, cause Lydia is closing in on the bride." Mason said, peeking his head around the corner.

" _Shit_. Grab Scott and my Dad, I'll grab Ally. Meet back here." Stiles took off running and you shook your head. 

"I married an idiot who will never be in love with me." You looked off into the open space in front of you, now that you were alone again. "I think that actually makes me the idiot."

You pulled Scott and Noah into the hallway and watched as Stiles dragged Allison away from Lydia and joined the group. "You wanna?" He asked. 

" _Hell_  no." You scrunched your face up and shook your head, shirking any responsibility for what was happening. 

"Uh, I may have told Lydia and Parrish that Y/n and I are a couple...?" Stiles held his hands in front of him, clasped together awkwardly against his torso, a habit that alway made you laugh. 

"You did  _what_?" Allison snapped, and you and Scott shared a look like you were grateful that her choice of weaponry wasn't allowed at the restaurant. 

"Why did I raise an idiot?" Noah groaned, shaking his head and sipping his beer. 

"Alright, how about we all calm down, huh? Y/n and I will ' _break up_ ' in a few weeks and everything will go back to normal, but for now, if she asks, we've been together for four years, we live together, bought Cespedes together, and you think it's heading towards the altar. Everyone is very happy for us,  _got it_?" 

"I can't deal with this right now." Allison grumbled. 

"Tell your Dad please!" Stiles yelled after her as she walked off. She fake smiled back at him and flipped him off, but Stiles smiled as he saw her approach Chris, who then shook his head in disappointment. 

"You should just date for real and get this lunacy over with." Noah complained as he walked back into the party. 

"Thanks for the input, Daddio." Stiles patted him on the back, pursed his lips and looked at his two best friends. 

"This explains a lot." Scott commented with a smirk. 

"The only thing that could explain any of this is if Stiles was dropped on his head as a baby." You quipped, shaking your head. 

"What a loving girlfriend,  _ammirite_?" Stiles joked back, wrapped his arm around your shoulder and grinning. 

"This is going to be interesting." Scott said before walking back into the party. 

"Tell your mom, Scotty." Stiles' request was met with a thumbs up from Scott. "This is going okay, right?" Stiles asked you, glancing down to see your scowl. "What's wrong? I feel like you look like you just fucking hate me. Am I asking too much of you right now?"

You sighed and shook your head. "No. It's fine. Just don't be a dick to me to get on Lydia's good side, okay? I didn't sign up for that." You asked him, predicting one of the ways that this could go. 

Stiles stepped in front of you and crouched down to get eye level with you. "I'm not going to do that. I swear. Giz, look at me." Your heart skipped a beat at his soft tone and use of your nickname. You connected your eyes with his from under your long black lashes. "I'll be a good fake boyfriend, I promise." You couldn't help but chuckle. He pulled you in for a tight hug when he saw you smile. "I love seeing you roll your eyes at me, but I love seeing you smile even more. I don't know what I would do without you, Giz." 

"I don't know what I'd do without you." You echoed his sentiment, but yours was more emotional and heavy. Stiles heard it. He pulled away and looked at you again. Your eyes were glossy and your forehead was littered with deep wrinkles. 

"You won't have to find out. Listen, I know this  _thing_  just happened but I swear, I'm not losing you over it." He cupped your cheeks in his hand and waited for you to nod before he pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a few extra seconds. This sudden intimacy was messing with his head. He had to keep reminding himself that it was fake and you didn't feel the same way as him. "We have some more people to tell." He whispered into your hairline. 

"Can I be there when you tell Derek?" You asked, a small smirk coming back to your lips. 

"Why?"

"No reason, just wanna see the look on his face." You grinned. 

"The two of you just  _loveeee_  rolling your eyes at me. I hate you both." Stiles grouped you and Derek together, before taking your hand in his and walking into the dining area to tell the rest of your friends, or anyone that should know, about yours and Stiles' fake relationship. 


	4. The One With The Wedding In Beacon Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Y/n get lost in the romance of Scott and Allison's wedding.

You had spent all of Friday running around town with either the wedding planner, Allison, or one of the other bridesmaids, so you had managed to avoid Stiles all day and you were relieved. Between the fake relationship and the real marriage, you were at the end of your emotional tether. Denying your feelings for Stiles was becoming harder and harder each time you laid your eyes on his handsome, wonderful, stupid fucking face. You glanced down at your phone in your lap, as the hairdresser curled your hair into an updo behind you. 

 **Biles Bilinski** : _How's it going over there?_

 **You** : _fine_.

 **Biles Bilinski** : _Giz_...

 **Biles Bilinski** : _You have got to stop being pissed at me._  

 **Biles Bilinski** : _I didn't do anything and I miss you._

You sighed heavily at the last three words on your screen.

"Boyfriend troubles?" The hairdresser asked, leaning over your shoulder to read your texts.

You grimaced at her nosiness, then sighed again. "Husband troubles, if we're being technical." You said quietly.

"You don't wear rings?" She asked, spraying the last curl into place, before she began bobbypinning your updo securely to your head.

You glanced at your bare finger and shook your head lightly. "It's a long story, in which I probably won't be married still by the end of next week." You explained, a strange sadness taking over your heart.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Divorce is hard." You rolled your eyes. You had no idea why you were talking to this stranger about it.

"Sure." You replied dismissively, wanting to end the conversation. 

* * *

"Al, you look stunning." Stiles hugged the radiant bride behind the front doors of the rebuilt Hale mansion, just moments away from stepping out into Beacon Hills Preserve to begin the procession towards a waiting Scott. He turned to you and stared, no smirk, no smile, no frown, just an intense stare. He glanced at the way that your y/f/c bridesmaid dress made you glow, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. " _You_ , however, are the one taking my breath away right now." Still no smirk, just a simple wetting of his lips and the same intense stare. 

You stepped back, trying to control your breathing, and looked him up and down. "You look good."

The corner of Stiles' mouth twitched up, and he scratched at the light stubble on his jaw. "Just good?"

You leaned forward again, straightening out his skinny black tie, and fiddling with the buttons on his fitted taupe-colored vest. Stiles held your hands against his chest, ignoring the feeling of your friends staring at the two of you, and he tilted his head to the side, waiting for you to think of some witty retort. " _Really_ good." You told the truth. Stiles pressed the tip of his tongue against his top lip, smirking, and finally, he leaned down and pressed his soft pink lips against your cheek. You blushed hard. "I don't think Lydia can see us from her seat at the ceremony, Sti." 

"I know." He said confidently, as he watched Cora and Isaac walk out the door of the house, into the preserve, towards the ceremony. Suddenly, the only people left in the front room were you, Stiles, Allison and Chris Argent.

"You ready, Al?" You asked your best friend, holding her bouquet in your hands. 

She nodded and took the flowers from you. "I just wanna see him already." She smiled, thinking about the man that went from being her first love to the man she was about to commit her life to. 

You hugged her lightly, turned, and saw Stiles waiting for you, his hand outstretched for you. You placed your palm against his and got a quick flash of a memory you didn't ever recall having in the first place. " _You are the best girl in the world, Giz_ " Those words seemed familiar but you couldn't place when they had been said. 

" _Giz_...? Earth to Gizmo." Stiles waved his hand in front of your face, and you smiled up at him, the sound of leaves crunching under your feet filled your ears until Stiles' husky voice did again. "Did you hear _any_ of what I just said to you?"

"I may have zoned out for a minute there." You admitted sheepishly, walking beside Stiles through the forest, as you grew closer and closer to the white, wooden fold up chairs that the guests were sitting in. "What'd you say?"

Stiles smiled and shook his head. "The gist of it was that I love you, and I am grateful that you are doing this for me." 

"If you keep saying shit like that, I'm gonna have a really hard time divorcing your ass." You joked, trying to protect yourself from falling for him further.

"I'd be so lucky." Stiles smirked down at you. He paused and you mirrored his grin. You didn't even realize that you were in front of Scott and Deaton; you were so focused on Stiles. You felt him graze his lips across your cheek, and let go of your hand. You walked opposite of him, stood in front of Malia and stared as Stiles winked at you from behind Scott. _What was happening?_ You were getting in way too deep. 

* * *

The reception started at three in the afternoon, and was planned in a way that whoever wanted to could dance, drink and eat until the sun rose the next day. Stiles brought you over a glass of water and sat down next to you, cupping his hands over your chiffon-covered knees. He looked so happy, and it made your heart flutter. "Don't take the jacket off yet." You whined, placing your glass on the table, and cupping your hand over his wrist. 

He raised his eyebrows, causing wrinkles to form on his forehead, and he smirked. "No? Not yet?" 

You shook your head. "Let me relish in you wearing a fitted three-piece suit for a little while longer. You weren't even this dressy for our wedding." You grinned.

" ** _OH_ SHE'S GOT WEDDING JOKES! _FINALLY_**! She's got _wedding_ jokes! Did you hear that, sir?" Stiles accosted a stranger walking by, and pointed at you excitedly. "She has finally got some jokes about it."

You rolled your eyes at him, and leaned back in your chair. A happy smile resting on both of your faces. "Do you still not remember anything of the night before?" You asked.

Stiles pursed his lips nonchalantly and shook his head. " _Although_ , I did have this dream last night."

" _Oh_?" You leaned forward, brushing a stray wavy hair back into place on his head. Your hand lingered and he took the opportunity to interlace his fingers with yours. " _You are the best girl in the world, Giz._ " The words repeated in your head over the familiar embrace.

"Yea, just like, I remember you were there." Stiles began recalling his dream before you cut him off.

"Good start. Were _you_ there?" You teased him. 

"Yep." Stiles got good at ignoring your sass in high school. "And uh, you looked beautiful.."

"My beauty is terminal. The doctor's all said I might have it for life." You interrupted again him with fake seriousness.

He snickered and grinned. He loved your jokes, and no matter how bad, they always made him laugh. "My ugliness will spread onto you eventually, no worries." He teased, and you frowned. He smiled harder and brought the back of your hand up to his lips. He left a soft, wet kiss on your skin and you hoped he didn't then notice your goosebumps. " _Anyway_ , the dream wasn't important. We were just talking."

"About what?"

Stiles paused, then glanced up at you through his thick brown lashes. " _Us_."

"Stiles, do you remember ever saying, ' _You are the best girl in the world, Giz'_ , to me?" 

Stiles shook his head. "Sounds like something I'd say though. You _are_ the best girl in the world." He sent you a lopsided beam and you couldn't help but blush. "The dream felt pretty real though. I don't know. It was odd." 

"Odd?" 

"Not like weird.. just.." Stiles fluttered his eyes up to the breezy green leaves above him in the trees and he tried to find the words to explain to you. He glanced back down and saw Lydia, two tables away, staring right at him. He quickly looked back at you, and spoke while trying not to move his lips. " _She's staring_." He watched as you started to turn. " _Don't look._ "

"Kiss me." 

"Really?" Stiles asked, surprised.

"Kiss me, Stiles." 

"God, this is like _all_ my boyhood dreams coming true." Stiles joked and watched you giggle as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, gently sucking on your top lip, before he broke the kiss and sighed. "You are really good at that, by the way."

"I've been told." 

"By who? _Jeremy_?" Stiles referred to the guy you dated Freshman and Sophomore year of college, who he loathed. 

"And Isaac." You grinned.

Stiles' facial expression went from mildly annoyed to _what the fuck?_ in a matter of seconds. "Lahey?!"

" _What_?" Isaac asked, passing by the table. 

Stiles was stunned and both of you whipped your heads up to look at the handsome blonde. "You made out with Y/n?"

Isaac laughed and smirked at you. "Oh yea. At uh, Lydia's party when she spiked the punch.. the second time she did that." Isaac left his hand on your shoulder, and Stiles felt nothing but unadulterated jealousy. "If the two of you weren't in this fake... _whatever_ this is, I'd tell you that you were an excellent make out partner." 

"Right back at you, Lahey." You winked up at him, and he laughed before walking away, chuckling extra when he smelled Stiles' envy.

"I can't believe you made out with Isaac." Stiles shook his head. "I just, I can't... You know what?" Stiles leaned forward and collided his lips with yours again. His lips sucked and gently tugged at yours and his thumb massaged the end of your jaw. His tongue made its way inside of your mouth and massaged yours. He tasted sweet, like the sugar from his soda, and you let out an almost silent moan. It was all Stiles needed to hear. He broke the kiss and smirked at you. He watched as you pulled your delicate fingers up to press against your swollen lips. Your eyes remained closed as his hand remained on your neck and, somehow, against the outside of your naked thigh. You had no idea when his hand had snaked its way up your dress, but you were reeling over the contact. You exhaled loudly, leaned over and rested your head against his collarbone. "Better than Lahey?" He smugly asked.

" _Mhmm_."

"Good. Cause that is just unacceptable otherwise." 

"Is she still looking?" You muttered, remembering that all of this was for show.

"Who?" Stiles asked, genuinely not having a clue as to who you were talking about. 

You lifted your head and snickered at the hopeless man in front of you. "Lydia, you wad." 

" _Wad_?" Stiles mocked your name for him. "That's a new one."

"I didn't want to be mean." You replied. 

"You didn't want to be mean?" Stiles emphasized 'you' a little too harder and you glared.

" _Now_ , I want to be mean, jackass." 

"No, go back to loving me."

"Too late. I'm over you." You teased, leaning back into your chair, your knees pushing against his thigh. You noticed Stiles' lingering grip on your leg, and wondered if he even remembered where his hand was. 

" _You're over me? When, when were you under me_?" Stiles pouted, then smirked when you scoffed. 

"You have got to stop quoting _Friends_." You rolled your eyes at him playfully.

"I'll stop quoting _Friends_ when you stop realizing I'm quoting _Friends_."

"We're screwed."

"I know." Stiles grinned. 

* * *

Stiles swapped with Lahey during dinner so that he could sit next to you because of your usual deal when it came to this sort of affair. This was not the first wedding that you and Stiles went to together. You were eternally each other's plus one's and you had created some traditions because of it. He always ordered the chicken and you always ordered the steak and the two of you would split your dishes in half and share, that way if someone got the better dish, the other could have some as well. You giggled as Stiles cracked jokes and you swiped a finger full of mashed potatoes onto the tip of his upturned nose. 

"Lick it off, lick it off." He demanded playfully as he tickled your sides. 

"No!" You argued through your laughter, forgetting the world around you.

"Oh, Gizmo. Do you forget how well I know you?" Stiles shot a toothy beam at you as you tried to catch your breath. You felt his hands slide down your leg, outside of your dress and gather the long fabric so that he could grab your ankle. "Don't make me."

"Stiles..." You warned, tilting your head to the side.

"I don't want to, but I will." He threatened to tickle the bottom of your foot, your version of Superman's kryptonite.

"Oh god, come here." You pressed your hands on both his cheeks and brought his face up to yours. You wrapped your lips around the food on his nose and licked it off. "You are so gross."

"I'm not the one who eats food off people's faces." Stiles countered facetiously. 

"Hate you." You complained, shaking your head at him. 

 "Well, I love you." Stiles repeated for what felt like the millionth time that day. He would tell you on occasion in the past but he couldn't stop saying it that day. He was trying not to get wrapped up in the intimacy that was accompanying your faux union but every time you did something quintessentially you, or something cute, or something funny, he found himself forgetting that you weren't actually his. 

"Lydia looks like she's about to scream until this tent comes down and impales the two of you." Allison leaned over to her best friends and whispered, having also caught their entire spectacle as they sat at the long table next to her and Scott, with the rest of the wedding party.

Lydia and Allison were close enough that she was invited to the wedding, but since she went off to MIT in Cambridge, Massachusetts, they had grown apart, and Allison decided not to ask her to be a bridesmaid. So Lydia and Jordan sat at a table with other Beacon Hills High classmates and friends, towards the middle of the tent, and she stared at you and Stiles. You decided to rub it in her nose a little further. You looked over at Stiles with a warm smile and you reached up to rearrange the long wavy tresses framing his face. Some of his gel had sweated off in the heat of California in June, and his locks fell against his forehead gently. 

"I like your hair this length." You whispered to him, twirling a strand around your index finger. 

"Then I'll try to keep it this length." He smiled softly back at you, his amber eyes reflecting the twinkling lights above your heads, and he leaned in to kiss you again, softer, more tender this time. 

In the middle of dinner, because the waiters were taking too long for your liking, Stiles went up to the bar to get you more champagne. He waited as the bartender made him his whiskey on the rocks, and jumped slightly when he felt a hand pat him on the shoulder. He turned and smiled at the face in front of him. 

"Dad." 

" _Stiles_..." Noah spoke in a low and disapproving manner.

Stiles furrowed his brow, not knowing what he had done to garner that reaction. "What?"

"What are you doing to that poor girl?"

"Y/n?"

"Of course, Y/n." Noah narrowed his eyes at his son.

"Just working on my twenty year plan to make her fall in love with me." Stiles joked, knocking his knuckles on the counter a few times. 

Noah shook his head, the stern look remaining on his face. "Kid, I'm serious. You can't screw with her like this just cause Lydia is around." 

"I'm not screwing with her, Dad." Stiles defended himself. 

"Are you still in love with Lydia?" Noah asked, hitting below the emotional belt. 

Stiles furrowed his brow and stumbled on his words. "No, I mean.. No, it's just... it's been hard seeing her again, but no."

"That was unconvincing, Stiles. You can't screw with Y/n's feelings. She doesn't deserve that."

Noah was defensive of you, _always_. You spent so much time at the Stilinski house growing up, and Claudia was most fond of you. You had been there for Stiles day in and day out when she passed, spending all day after school, for months, doing homework and watching every VHS tape in your house and his. When your own Dad passed away in high school, Noah took it upon himself to teach you and Stiles how to drive and how to punch a guy who had been rude or too handsy. You would occasionally make the two Stilinski men dinner, and you always brought over tins full of sugar cookies on Christmas Day. You sat next to him at all of Stiles' lacrosse games, and at Stiles' graduation from George Washington and Quantico. Noah liked Lydia, when Stiles was dating her, but you were always the one that he considered to be the daughter he never had.

"I'm not screwing with her, Dad. If anything, she's screwing with me. There is no way that she doesn't know that I am madly in love with her." 

Noah pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose and shook his head, grabbing the beer off the counter that he had ordered. "The two of you couldn't be thicker in the head than if..." Noah paused, staring at his son's confused face again. "Just quit kissing her so much if you aren't going to ask her out already."

Stiles watched as his dad walked away from him and he shoved his hand in his pockets, sulking at his conversation, until he felt the cold metal against his fingertips. He pulled your and his wedding bands out of his pocket and jingled them around in the palm of his hand. He wasn't sure why, that morning when he was getting dressed in his apartment, he grabbed the rings off of his bedside table. He squeezed them in his hand until the thin silver left indents in his palm. He furrowed his brow, his mind racing a mile a minute, and he glanced up at you, sitting and laughing between Allison and Malia. Your smile sent butterflies flitting into his gut, and Stiles couldn't help but smile too. 

* * *

In the middle of dinner, you and Stiles gave your speeches about Scott and Allison, then Stiles finally took off his jacket after dinner and a couple more drinks, and rolled up the sleeves to his crisp white dress shirt. You implored him to leave the vest and tie on, begging him to not ruin the fact that he kind of looked like a movie star in his tailored ensemble. He grinned and did as you said, before dragging you out on to the dance floor, where the bride and groom and most of the rest of the party guests had congregated. 

The two of you danced with all of your friends, Stiles' hands always somewhere on your person, and his hips occasionally connected to yours, swaying in unison. Moments passed throughout the two hours in which you, Stiles, and all of your loved ones danced and laughed and sang along to the upbeat music of the band and the DJ, alternating with each other for the first half of the night, where the two of you sort of forgot that there were other people around. His smile lit up your entire world, and everything else melted into the background. He pulled you tightly against him, grinding his loose hips against yours, when you decided that if you didn't take a break, you were going to jump him. He was too sexy in that suit, with his sleeves rolled up, revealing his hairy and muscular arms, and his body rubbing up against yours, as he planted kisses on your lips, and cheeks, and neck.   

"I need some water.." You leaned up to Stiles' ear and whispered loudly over the music. "I'll be right back."

You turned to walk away, until you felt Stiles' hand grip yours. He wasn't stopping you, he was simply following. He interlaced his fingers with yours, feeling your racing heart beat through your boney fingers as they pressed tightly against his. You got your two ice waters and followed Stiles to a table on the outskirts of the party, that had been abandoned in favor of the dance floor. He pulled you down onto his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 

You placed your water on the table and stared into his perfect almond colored eyes. The silent tension between the two of you was palpable, as you brought your right hand up his back and ran your fingers through the thick hair on the back of his head. His glances alternated between your lips and your eyes, and he found himself struggling to keep his breathing normal. The way you were dancing with him before was driving him wild. Stiles pulled his right hand from your back, ran it half way down your thigh, and gripped your leg over the chiffon skirt of your dress. You very blatantly bit your bottom lip, as his left hand slowly and lightly ghosted its way up your back, caressing his fingers up and down between your shoulder blades, before resting his large hand against the nape of your neck. The grip on your thigh tightened, as he gently brought your head down to his, your hands moved from his hair to his jaw, once he connected his lips to yours. It was a tense, passionate and heated open-mouthed kiss. Stiles tilted his head to the side, gaining better access, and slipped his tongue in your mouth, exploring it greedily. Stiles had to actively stop himself, as his hand unconsciously gripped tighter and moved up your thigh. You were completely overcome by years of lust for him, and you moved your body even closer, and continued biting, sucking and tugging on his lips with yours. 

Stiles broke away first, short of breath and having a very difficult time hiding his desire. He pressed his hot forehead against your collarbone, and felt your skin develop goosebumps because of his warm breath on your chest. He glanced up at you, your eyes glazed over, as you panted to catch your breath. All Stiles could think about was taking you home, laying you on his bed, and finally doing to you what he had done in his dreams. You adjusted yourself on his lap, and heard Stiles whimper quietly and involuntarily. You cocked your head to side slightly and smirked. You leaned down again, connecting your lips to his, and he melted into the kiss. Stiles' hand moved from your thigh to your stomach, as his lips trailed off from yours and moved down to your jawline. You sighed softly as they moved down your throat slowly, so very slowly, his hand mimicking his lips and moving slowly south. You squirmed in his lap again, over his touch and Stiles breathed out heavily against the crook of your neck. 

" **Y/N, GET YOUR ASS TO THE DANCE FLOOR!"**

Yours and Stiles' heads shot up, red faced and bewildered, like two teenagers caught making out in the backseat of a car by their parents. You looked around, still pretty much alone on the outskirts of the party, and then you glanced back at Stiles, staring up at you, his chest rising and falling heavily, his hands back in safer territory on your body. You brought your hand up to Stiles' cheek, your eyes darkened with desire, and you tilted back down, your lips gently moving against his again, and Stiles let out a quietly satisfied moan. 

"We are going to have the bride toss the bouquet as soon as we can locate the maid of honor... does anyone know where....." The DJ moved the microphone away from his mouth, but not enough that you couldn't hear Allison and Malia both saying your name in the background in unison. "Y/n is? Y/n, you out there?" 

"Ugh.." Stiles groaned, frustratedly rubbing his hand against the length of his face, as you pulled away again. 

"We should.." You nodded back towards the direction of the wedding. 

"Mhmm." Stiles hummed in agitated agreement, pursing his lips and flaring his nostrils. 

You stood and Stiles took a deep breath and then got up after you, pulling at the bottom hem of his vest, straightening himself out. Your eye was drawn down by his hands, and suddenly, you rolled a smirk back into your mouth, and stepped forward, pressing your body against Stiles' and your hands against his ribcage. He smiled, licking his lips, and rested his hands on your waist. 

"These pants.. are a little tight... You might want to fix them." You told him, staring into his eyes while biting your lip and lowering your hands by just a few inches. 

Stiles snickered, licked his top lip, and smugly smirked down at you. His hands dropped from your hips, into his front pockets, and you felt him moving against you. You didn't move, continuing to press against him, as he adjusted his growing length. You were driving him wild. "Better?" He asked, his hands remaining in his pockets, and yours dropping down to the waist of his tailored trousers. 

"For some."

Stiles let out a chuckle, his arousal reading clearly on his face, and he wiped his right hand across his mouth and cheeks, trying to relax his mischievous grin. "We should go before Allison uses us for target practice."

You simply smiled and nodded, then turned and began walking back towards the reception, music playing again while they searched for you. Stiles kept one hand in his pocket, holding his erect cock against his pelvis until the swelling went down and it was less obvious that you had gotten him hard as a rock; his other hand found yours, and you folded your arm behind you, resting both yours and his hands against the small of your back, as Stiles followed quickly behind you. 

As you got back in view of the reception, and the still full dance floor, Stiles leaned forward to whisper in your ear. "You know, as my wife, you really shouldn't be allowed to catch the bouquet. It's not fair to the real single women." 

You barely turned to glance behind you, but you could tell that you were sporting the same devilish smirk as Stiles. You shrugged, speaking just above a mumble, only loud enough for him to hear. "Maybe if I catch it, I'll just marry you for real."

"Want me to trip some girls?" Stiles teased against the shell of your ear, as you playfully shook your head in fake disapproval.

You didn't catch the bouquet; Allison's cousin did. You didn't really try either. Just putting in minimal effort to get under the flowers, while really staring at Stiles as he watched you and whispered to Scott from the sidelines, licking his lips at you like you were a snack he couldn't wait to have.

* * *

After dinner, Scott was out on the dance floor dancing, with his grandmother, to the band's rendition of Doris Troy's " _Just One Look_ ", and Allison was dancing with her dad, when Noah approached you and Stiles, giggling over funny wedding guests, and asked you to dance with him. You happily accepted and followed your surrogate father to the dance floor. You smiled when you saw Stiles drag Melissa out onto the dance floor to dance with him, and then went back to talking with and being spun around by the Sheriff. 

"You know, I always knew that Scott was going to marry Allison, but I genuinely thought that I'd be at your and Y/n's wedding first." Melissa said after Stiles stopped spinning her in place. 

Stiles paused for a moment, a stunned look on his face over Melissa's comment, then he continued slow dancing with the woman who became his surrogate mother over the years. "I don't know why you'd think that. We're just friends."

"Oh, Stiles, honey, who do you think you're fooling? You are staring at her right now like she created the sun and the moon. I have never seen two people more perfectly made for each other than the two of you, and I say that, dancing with you, at my only son's wedding." She shook her head at Stiles, who decided to just cop to the truth. 

"I'll be the first one to agree with that, but she doesn't think so. I'm just her best friend."

"Stiles, you are the smartest dumbass I have ever met."

Stiles laughed. "What?"

Melissa rolled her eyes. "You think that girl, or any girl, would do what she has been doing for you this weekend if she didn't, at the very least, like you?" Melissa shook her head and cringed at Stiles. "No girl wants to kiss a guy she doesn't like as much as the two of you idiots have been making out." Stiles quirked an eyebrow up, like he was considering what she was saying for a moment, before he inevitably shrugged. "Just tell her how you feel, Stiles."

"How? I couldn't just tell her straight up." Stiles furrowed his brow and looked down at his shiny brown dress shoes avoiding Melissa's toes. 

"Why the hell not? Listen, I'll tell you something that I told Scott a long time ago, 'women love words'." Stiles quirked his eyebrow up again, this time like he didn't understand where Melissa was about to take this. She shook her head at the man, acting like a boy, in front of her. "You need to tell her how you feel, Stiles. Just say it. Just blurt it out. Make an interpretive dance about it, write it in a letter, or a poem, or on a paper airplane that you throw at her head.. Sing it, for all I care. Carve it in a tree, write it in wet cement, key it in her car, tattoo it on your forehead, but for gods sake, Stiles, just tell Y/n already."

Stiles blushed, and broke his eye contact with Melissa to stare back at you, laughing and dancing with his father. A frown settled back on his face, as his gaze returned to Melissa. "What if she doesn't feel the same? Honestly? Then I lose my best friend, and I just don't know if that's worth it."

"Well then you can stop pining over her for the first time in.." Melissa paused to count. "..fifteen years, and you can move on with your life. Honestly, kiddo, call it a woman's intuition, or just not being blind, she feels the same way. I know she does."

Stiles nodded, and looked over at the band as they finished playing their final song, and everyone began clapping for them. The band had packed up their things, and many of the older guests had left after Allison and Scott cut the cake, but the party raged on. The deejay was on a kick of slow songs, and Stiles dragged you back out to dance after eating all the dessert that you could stomach. The two of you swayed across the dance floor. Stiles breathed in the wonderful scent of vanilla that always rested on your silky y/h/c strands, and closed his eyes, just enjoying your closeness.

"Do you remember that dance in eighth grade that I dragged you and Scott to because Scott was so in love with Bethany Elliott and you were so in love with Lydia, and neither of you had the guts to ask either of them out, so I thought that if I could get you all in a room, maybe I could make some matchmaking magic happen?" You interrupted Stiles' peaceful zoning out.

"I do, but there's an issue with that story." He smiled down at you. You furrowed your brow and tilted your head, prompting him to explain. "I didn't have a crush on Lydia yet. I had a crush on you. A massive one."

"Really?" You laughed quietly, and smiled. 

" _Massive_." Stiles gestured out with his hands, before returning them to the small of your back. 

"You were my first crush... well, you and Lance Bass." You admitted.

"Oh, Y/n, Lance Bass, really?" Stiles laughed and shook his head. 

"I know, I know. But listen, I don't know who was expecting my six year old gaydar to be.. existent."

Stiles chuckled and then let you off the hook. "If it makes you feel any better, at least your first crush was real. My first crush, besides you, was Pocahontas."

You donned a big open-mouthed grin, and stared up at Stiles. "Is that why you watched Pocahontas with me so many times?"

"Fuck yes. Did you see her legs? Mmmm." Stiles shut his eyes, and moaned softly, tilting his head to the side as he did, and you laughed loudly and playfully swatted at the back of his head. He snickered and tugged you a little tighter against him. 

You danced in silence for mere moments, enjoying each other's bliss, before you glanced back up at Stiles and confirmed something he had said. "I was your first crush too?" You rolled your eyes as he smirked. "Besides Pocahontas?" 

He nodded. "You were my first for a lot of things." 

"Like what?"

"First kiss." Stiles began listing. 

"Mhmm." You smiled up at the gorgeous man in front of you. 

"First girl I ever held hands with."

"When was that?" You asked, thinking he would say the hospital, waiting to hear if Allison was alive or dead. 

"That haunted corn maze thing that we went to when we were like twelve. I mean, you held Scott's hand too, because the two of us were total wusses, and you were always the bravest of the three of us, but our fingers were interlaced," Stiles pulled his hand off of your back, found your hand, interlaced your fingers, and readjusted into a traditional slow dance stance. "and you were just cupping Scott's hand."

"That's cause I liked you, you doofus."

Stiles' nose scrunched up and his nostrils flared, as he licked his lips and snickered. "You were my first slow dance." He began listing again. "And my first wife." He smirked down at you, your eyes big with playful annoyance. "My first boner."

"Wh..What?" You could barely get the word out in between your laughter. "What does that even mean?" You laughed hard, and Stiles grinned and held you upright in his arms. 

"I mean, like, besides, honestly probably Rachel Green, you were like the first girl that I thought about when I was like a horny little twelve year old fuck, and I popped a little, you know.." Stiles made a quick jerking off gesture with his hand, and you broke down laughing. He smirked, feeling accomplished for making you so happy.

You regained some of your composure, and shook your head at Stiles. "Some things, you should probably keep to your self." You told him, smirking back.

Stiles shrugged, tilting his head to the side, and beaming down at you. "Yea, maybe, but you asked what my firsts with you were." 

"I did..." You sighed, and then caught a glimpse of Lydia, dancing with Parrish, but staring at the two of you. "I know one thing I wasn't your first for." 

Stiles followed your gaze to Lydia and blushed, dropping his head down. "Yea.." He groaned lightly. "I could always add you to the list though, just say the word." Stiles winked at you, and you rolled yours eyes, hard. 

"Mmm. Let me get back to you on that one." You spit back, sarcastically. "How many are on that list anyway?"

"Seriously?" You shrugged, a comfortable smile resting on your lips. Stiles quirked his eyebrows up in surprise, but answered your question regardless. "Four, you?"

"Three." You answered nonchalantly. 

"Could be four if we actually did have sex in Vegas." Stiles joked. 

"I know we didn't."

"Because you wouldn't ever have sex with me?"

"No, because I know that regardless of how plastered you were, if you saw me as intoxicated as I was, and as completely incapable of giving proper consent, you wouldn't have done it. Even if I had said yes at the time." You spoke very matter-of-factly about that night, showing Stiles that you had put some thought into it since. 

"You're right. I would never do anything to hurt you." Stiles smiled down at you, before pulling you up against his chest. You pressed your cheek against the silky fabric of his taupe vest and the two of you quietly, and comfortably, swayed around the dance floor, in the middle of the forest, under thousands of twinkling string lights strung up in the trees. Stiles let his thoughts drift as he heard Allison and Scott's song, Etta James', " _At Last_ ", begin to play. He glanced over at his best friends gliding gracefully around the floor together. He couldn't help but let the words get to him.

" _Now here I am, so spellbound, darling, not by stars, but just by you. At last, my love has come along_." 

"Y/n" He whispered, and felt you hum quietly against his chest. "You singing the words, right now?"

"Mhmm." You nodded against him and kept quietly singing to yourself. 

"You are wonderful."

You swung your head up and smiled at him, a big toothy grin that made your cheekbones protrude under your soft skin and made Stiles' heart ache. " _You smiled, you smiled, and then the spell was cast, and here we are in Heaven.._ " You sung quietly to him, as Stiles watched on adoringly. You grew silent and let Etta sing the final line, " _For you are mine, at last_." The wedding guests applauded as Scott and Allison ceased dancing and kissed. You and Stiles didn't notice, completely wrapped up in your own world; your emotions as heavy as the swelling crescendo that ended the renowned love song. 

The music moved on to a cover of Elvis Presley's classic ballad, " _Can't Help Falling In Love_ ", and Stiles took a leap. He was so lost in the moment, and your glistening y/e/c eyes, that Stiles forgot about every other person around him. He stood still, no longer gently gliding around the floor, avoiding the other couples, while holding you tightly in his arms. He whispered a simple question. "Can i kiss you?" 

"Is Lydia looking?" You whispered back.

Stiles ran his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, the seams of his shirt straining in the effort not to tear because of his ample muscles, and he scanned the area around him, searching for Lydia. He couldn't find her. His hand found the small of your back again, pulling you in against him once more, and he rolled his lips back into his mouth. "Mhmm." He lied. 

"Come here." You grinned, leaned forward, cupped his cheeks in your delicate hands, and pressed your lips against his. Your lips moved in perfect congruence with each other, before Stiles sighed and broke away. 

"Can I just keep kissing you?"

You giggled quietly, and chewed on your bottom lip. "Mhmm."

"Good." Your lips moved like your bodies, in perfect harmony and complete contentment. 

Stiles wasn't sure what time Lydia even left. He had not kept track of her at a single point throughout the day. He was completely enthralled by you, wonderful, smart, gentle, enchanting, sexy, and passionate you.

Around four in the morning, Stiles wrapped his suit jacket around your shoulders, and climbed in the backseat of a cab with you. You fell asleep with your head resting in his lap, your breathing soft and quiet, as he brushed his thumb back and forth gently across the back of your neck. He was breathing for you and your existence at this point. Stiles made a decision that night on the ride to drop you off at home, as the sporadic street lamps occasionally illuminated the car and he caught glimpses of your peaceful face. He couldn't hide this anymore. He would fight tooth and nail to be with you. He had never felt this way about anyone else before and he couldn't live his life knowing that he didn't do anything to try to make you his. That was it. That was the moment that Stiles Stilinski decided that he could never have anyone else for as long as he lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I get that this is a fake-relationship series, with Lydia being the one that they are aiming to fool, and then she is like barely in this chapter, but I wanted it to be evident that the only one thinking about Lydia is the reader. Like, she is so oblivious to the fact that Stiles is in love with her, because Lydia is back in town and has really thrown her off her shit. So, I hope it comes across that generally the only times that Lydia is even mentioned is by either the reader, or another character, but she is so far off Stiles' radar and thus she is rarely mentioned.  
> does that make sense?


	5. The One Where Stiles Plays Al Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally admits that he wants more than a fake relationship.

You and Stiles finally left the reception around four in the morning, splitting a cab and returning to your respective homes. He trudged into the post-wedding, pre-honeymoon sendoff brunch at a quarter to nine, chugging blue Gatorade and trying to stave off premature death. He smiled, however, when he saw you happily chattering with Malia over an empty chair between you and the beautiful were-coyote. He glanced around the room and didn't see anyone standing, so he sauntered over, hoping you had been saving the seat for him. You felt strong heart palpitations when you saw Stiles, already half-dressed for work, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his skinny black tie, hanging, unknotted, from his collar down his shirt-front. 

"Were you saving this seat for me, Gizmo?" He whispered, gripping the seatback of the empty chair next to you. 

"Well you are my boyfriend for just a little while longer, so I figured you'd sit next to me." You teased with a grin. 

"In that case..." Stiles bent over, cupping his large hand against your throat and chin, pulled your face up and placed a soft kiss on your lips before finally sitting next to you. 

Stiles could only stay for an hour before he had to rush off to work, regardless of the fact that he didn't normally work on Sunday's, he had to if he wanted to take off the following Monday so that the two of you could go to Vegas to get your annulment taken care of. In the time that he was there, however, he regaled the breakfast-eating group with a hilarious saga of the time that Scott and Allison came out to D.C. to visit and how after losing them all day, they managed to find their way back to his dorm, and he managed to walk in on them, and how he finally just ended up sleeping at your place. You loved that story and it was always better when he told it than when you did. Everyone at the table was in stitches, laughing, over his funny recollection of the day, except for Lydia, who stared at you throughout Stiles' story. It finally came time for Stiles to head out, even though everyone else was still working on their breakfast and bottomless mimosas, and he pulled you from the table to chat before he left.  

"Can you still pick up Cespedes from the kennel after this?" He asked, his hands naturally resting on your hips, as he tilted his chin up and let you button his collar. 

"Yep, I'm gonna take him to the park, we're gonna chase some geese, it's gonna be a ball." You told him as your fingers moved from the collar of his white button down work shirt to his skinny black tie, adjusting the length before beginning a half Windsor knot around his neck. 

"He'll be thrilled." Stiles whispered, smiling while watching your hands work in between the two of you. He instinctively and absentmindedly tugged on your hips, pulling you closer and connecting your pelvises. You glanced from the tie, up to his smirk, and you snickered. "I'll be home at six, did you have things to do today or were you just gonna hang out with the pup?" 

"I was going to hang out with the pup until you got home and then I can hang out with you for a little, but I have to be at Scott and Allison's at seven to pick up their dogs and help them pack before their flight tomorrow." You explained, neatly smoothing down his newly tied tie against his chest. 

"They can't pack on their own?" Stiles quirked a thick and dark eyebrow up, snarkily.

You rolled your eyes at him and then felt him pepper your cheek with gentle and swift kisses. "I'll see you at six?"

Stiles grinned and nodded. "Should I pick up something for dinner?"

"I'll take care of it." 

"Oh, Gizmo, I am not worthy of your love." Stiles teased.

"No you are not." You glanced over at the table, some of your friends were enthralled watching the two of you, most were ignoring your affectionate display, but you did connect with a particular set of eyes. You turned back to Stiles and grinned. "Someone is watching us. One for the road, for my brave FBI agent?"

You pretended to pout, and Stiles seized the opportunity. He lurched his head forward and grabbed at your lower lip with his teeth before you could tuck it back in. You felt your knees tremble for a moment, Stiles felt it too. He pulled you even tighter against him, silently vowing to keep you standing, and continued pressing his mouth against yours. He wasn't thinking about Lydia in the slightest, he was too concentrated on how naturally your mouths worked with and against each other. These were the best kisses of his life, and he knew it. You sighed as he pulled away, opened your eyes and saw a smug grin on his face. You swatted him lightly on his chest, and heard him chuckle.

"I'll see you at six?" Stiles' face became a bit more serious as he nodded. "Be safe."

"I will. It should be a slow day." You nodded, staring at the knot in his tie. "Hug my son for me." Stiles joked, trying to make you laugh. You smirked, he'd take what he could get. "Later, Giz." He kissed you on the cheek, fished around his pocket for his keys, and left.

"So, why is Stiles working on a Sunday?" Malia asked, leaning over his now empty chair. 

You knew she'd be able to tell that you were lying, but you hoped that she wouldn't be listening to your heartbeat this one time. "I think they just needed some extra hands today for something. I don't quite know." You shrugged, and Malia went back to her breakfast, accepting that as a reasonable truth.

Suddenly, a body slipped into the empty chair next to you, and you looked up from your omelette. "So, Stiles had to go?"

You stared at the porcelain skin and dark bags under Lydia's eyes, and you cursed her for still being so beautiful. You nodded quietly and reached over your plate for your coffee. "Mhmm. He had to go to work."

"Can I ask you something?" She blurted out quietly, regardless of the fact that every supernatural creature in that room was eavesdropping on your conversation. 

"Sure." You sipped your coffee as nonchalantly as possible. 

"Stiles said that you and him got together junior year of college.. but, did you two ever...?" She assumed you could fill in the blank, but seeing as even the first part of her sentence wasn't true, you had no idea what she was talking about. You widened your eyes and shook your head, confusion covering your face. Lydia sighed. "Did you two ever hook up while Stiles and I were still together?"

You contorted your face in complete and utter annoyance at Lydia's question. Stiles could not have been more loyal to her if he had tried, and you were agitated that she ever questioned that. You rested your warm mug against your knee and shook your head in disapproval at the woman in front of you. "He literally.. I can't believe you'd ask that. I know we were never best friends, but you were my friend, Lydia, and I wouldn't have done that to you. Not to mention, Stiles, who was madly in love with you, wouldn't have even accidentally dreamed about a girl that wasn't you while you two were together."

"It's just, that story he told earlier, that was sophomore year, before we broke up, right?" Lydia stared at you with her big, stupid doe eyes.

"Yea, and did you miss the part where he said he slept on the floor of my dorm with a pile of my clothes as his pillow?" You questioned her, annoyedly.

"I just thought that maybe he said all of that to-"

"Whatever you thought was wrong. He never cheated on you." You were so defensive of your best friend's name, and Lydia was really rubbing you the wrong way in that moment. 

"How serious are the two of you?" She blurted out, and you caught Corey's head whip around in surprise at the blunt question. You snickered at the young beta and watched as he whispered to Mason what had just been said. You finally understood, Lydia was jealous. The fake relationship had worked, you decided to lay it on pretty thick just to turn the knife a little more.

You took a sip of your coffee, then leaned in a little closer. "Between you and me, I heard Stiles on the phone with his Dad a little while ago, asking if the Sheriff could get Claudia's ring from the safety deposit box at the bank, so I'd say pretty serious. I mean, we have the apartment and we got Cespedes together, and after all of these years, we're still as happy as we are. He's always telling me that it's the happiest he's ever been." You leaned back in your chair and took another sip of your coffee. 

Lydia nodded for a long moment, staring down at nothing in particular. "I hope all the best for the two of you." She finally said, as she got up and walked back to her seat next to Parrish.

You glanced at Mason and Corey, and Liam and Theo, all sitting across from you at the table, and you smirked. Mason nodded, his eyes wide, and finally muttered one word. "Intense."

* * *

Cespedes heard the keys jingling outside of the door before you did, but as soon as the shaggy dog went running off to the front entrance, you knew Stiles was home. You felt butterflies fill your stomach as you listened to the key pushing the tumblers down in the lock and Cespedes' claws tapping excitedly on the hardwood floors. 

"Hey buddy!" You heard Stiles say, followed by the sound of Cespedes' collar jingling as his owner scratched his neck. "Where's your mom?" Stiles asked quietly, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You had referred to yourself as that for Cespedes a million times, but you had never heard Stiles say it. "Y/n?" Stiles rounded the corner, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door, and paused when he saw you. "A sight for sore eyes." He muttered, a soft smile resting on his pink lips. He dropped his gray messenger bag to the floor, all but crawled over to the couch and collapsed on top of you, his lanky body taking up the full length of the sofa. He rested his head in your lap, as you locked your phone and slid it on the end table next to you. 

"What happened to your lip?" You furrowed your brow as you ran your thumb over the red and scabby split on his plumpening lower lip. 

Stiles closed his eyes and turned his head so that his nose was pressed against the fabric of your shirt, covering your torso. "It was just one of those days." He sighed and the dark blue cotton of your loose tank top rippled against his exhale. You pushed your fingers through his chocolate brown hair, breaking up his stiff, pomade filled locks and massaging his scalp. He moaned softly and you smiled. "I could honestly fall asleep right now." He mumbled, yawning, and readjusting his head against your thighs. 

You gently tugged at his skinny black work tie, suddenly spotting a few drops of dried blood on his white button down, and you deftly undid the button around his collar. He smiled sleepily as you undressed him to help him relax. "I'm gonna go then. You should sleep. Cespedes has been fed."

"Please don't. I haven't been fed, I'm assuming you haven't been fed, and if I'm not mistaken, my apartment smells dangerously like your chicken parm." Stiles sniffed the air. "Please tell me I'm right."

You grinned, even though his eyes were still closed. "You're right. It'll be ready in like twenty or so." You brushed your fingers through his spiky hair, missing the way he had styled it at the wedding the night before. He had to be a bit more clean cut for work, however. 

"So you haven't eaten yet either?" Stiles finally opened his eyes and glanced up at you adoringly. 

You shook your head and smirked. "It's only six, Sti, why would I come over and make you dinner and then eat without you?" You asked him bitingly. 

"You should stay over. You can eat dinner with me and the pup, we can watch finally watch _The Big Short_ and then if you actually stay over, we can watch John Oliver together live." He laid out an enticing plan. "I have coffee ice cream." He said in a  sing-song voice.

"Hagen-Daaz?" 

"Why would I ever buy you anything but? I'm not trying to incur that wrath." He snickered. 

"You should've led with that." You joked with a happy grin. 

"So, you'll stay over?" He asked, trying and failing to conceal his excitement. 

"I'm already wearing your sweats, so I might as well."

Stiles furrowed his brow, sat up and looked down at your legs. "So you are. Did you miss me that much, Giz?" He teased you.

You rolled your eyes and got up from the couch to check on dinner. "Cespedes found the largest mud puddle, in the whole world, and decided to roll in it today." You spoke a little louder so that he could hear you from the kitchen.

Cespedes trotted up to Stiles in the living room and he scratched behind his dog's ears. "Did you shake mud all over mommy's clothes?" Stiles asked the shaggy mutt.

"Oh yes he did." Stiles turned his head around to see you leaning over the back of the couch, your cleavage in full view to him. "My jeans took the brunt of it, so I needed new pants." You gestured towards the pair of Stiles' baggy gray sweats that you were sporting.

"He's not muddy now.." Stiles tried to look at your eyes and not your chest. 

"You are an observant one, Stilinski.. I gave him a bath." You scratched the top of Cespedes' head as he stood on the couch, next to Stiles, to see you. 

"You didn't have to do that, Y/n." Stiles loved that you did without even thinking about it though.

"I couldn't leave him like a giant walking mud monster..." You paused, grabbing your phone off the table next to the arm of the couch. "Here, look at him." You handed Stiles your phone, a picture of Cespedes from that afternoon, before his bath, loaded on the screen.

Stiles began laughing loudly. "Oh shit. Gizmo, I'm so sorry. Oh god, you are too good to us." He apologized, as he pulled on the chew toy that Cespedes had in his teeth. 

"I really am." You smirked before walking back into the kitchen. "Beer?" You yelled. 

"I'll get it. Do you want one?" You jumped at the sound of Stiles' voice right behind you. He snickered at how he startled you, and gently placed his hand on the small of your back for a brief moment, a silent apology for scaring you. 

"I'll take one." Stiles pulled two bottles out of the fridge, then walked past you to get the bottle opener. The two of you gracefully avoided each other in the kitchen, proof that you had done this domestic dance before. He took a large chug of his beer, then flipped the light switch on his oven and checked to see what his dinner was looking like inside. He smiled, then stood up straight again. You placed your bottle on the white tile counter, and stepped forward towards your best friend. "You should take this off before the stain sets completely." You spoke quietly, as your fingers undid the knot around his neck and Stiles simply stood there, taking swigs of his drink and watching you undo his tie. 

"What do you always say gets blood out?" He whispered back. 

You glanced up at him for a split second from under your black lashes, then looked back down to your fingers undoing the clear buttons on his shirt. "Lemon and uh, club soda." You struggled to remember anything while you were this close to Stiles. "Did.. did you not wear an undershirt today?" You asked, as the undoing of his shirt revealed his naked chest instead of a white t-shirt. 

"I have to do laundry." He replied quietly. 

You paused what you were doing, your fingers gently grazing his muscular sternum, and you gave him a playfully annoyed look. "You should've told me. I literally did some laundry today. I could've done your shirts, at least."

"Are you saying that your jeans are already clean?" He asked, smirking against the mouth of his beer bottle. 

"Of course." You laughed, returning to your undressing duties. 

"Then why are you still wearing my sweats?" Stiles quirked his brows up, smugly, before taking another large sip of his beer.

"They're more comfortable, duh." You answered as Stiles set his drink down again and pulled his shirt off. You took it from his hands, and quickly walked towards his bedroom, trying not to stare at his bare chest. Stiles and Cespedes followed you eagerly. "Can you pull what you absolutely need done tonight and I'll get a load going for you?" 

Stiles began unbuckling his black leather belt, as he watched you sit on his bed with his dog. This was what he dreamed about at night, and it pained him that it wasn't happening the way that it did in his subconscious thoughts. "Y/n, you don't have to do my laundry." 

"Just give me your shit, Stilinski." You groaned, annoyed that you had to argue with him over this.

"Fine." He wasn't going to protest too much. "But I won't let you fold."

"Oh how will I ever live." You rolled your eyes and laid down on your side, Cespedes curling up next to you on the mattress, and you watched as Stiles, muscular and sexy, pulled his socks off and then stepped out of his black work trousers. He tossed them in his laundry basket and you watched as he walked around the room in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, which hugged him perfectly and were riding up his left leg slightly. You laughed quietly to yourself as he tripped over a pile of dirty clothes on the floor before dumping them in his hamper. He opened a drawer and grabbed a gray t-shirt, a pair of white socks, and a pair of Georgetown ' _La Hoyas_ ' basketball shorts, and began dressing. 

" _Oh shit_..." Stiles muttered to himself, as if he suddenly remembered something important, while he pulled his other sock on. 

"What's wrong?" You asked, gently smoothing Cespedes' wiry fur against his body. 

Stiles leaned down in front of his laundry basket and pulled something out of the pocket of the pants he had been wearing that day to work."Nothing. Just almost.." He trailed off. 

"What's in your hand?" You asked, nosily. 

"Nothing."

"Well now I really want to know." You persisted. 

Stiles sighed and turned to face you. "I, uh, I don't know why I've been walking around with these the past few days. I just keep putting them back in my pocket, or my wallet or, uh, I had them around my I.D. badge chain today before I came home."

"What are they?" You asked, propping yourself up on your elbow, Cespedes now dozing off curled against your stomach. Stiles exhaled deeply and opened his hand to you. "You've been... Stiles, why have you been walking around with our wedding rings?" You asked quietly, sitting up more and waking the sleeping dog. You plucked them out of his palm, and he laid down on the bed next to you, your bodies making a 'T' across the queen sized mattress. Cespedes crawled up towards the pillows and went back to sleep, ignoring his humans. Stiles' hand connected with the small of your back, and you glanced over at him. "I never got to see what yours looked like on." You said quietly, connecting your eyes with his light brown ones. 

The corners of Stiles' mouth twitched up, and he licked his lips quickly. He grabbed his band from your palm and slid it on his left ring finger. This wasn't the first time he had done this since that morning in Vegas. He rested his hand across his stomach and watched as you leaned over and examined it. You swept your thumb across the now warm metal and you glanced up at him. He watched as you slipped the thinner silver band over your left ring finger, and then curled up next to him, your neck resting on his bicep, your right hand resting on his chest, and your right leg bending over his. You reached down and pulled his left hand from his stomach, up to rest on his chest, under yours. You spun the well-fitting ring around on his finger and you laid there with him in a comfortable silence. 

"At this rate, we're on a pretty good track to thirty-six." You whispered finally.

Stiles turned his head and buried his nose in the crown of your head. He closed his eyes and thought about your words. "Yea, we are. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it?"

You barely shook your head. "No it really wouldn't."

"Built in in-laws. My dad already basically loves you more than me, and your mom thinks I'm wonderful." You laughed and hummed in agreement. "And my mom loved you so much." Stiles whispered, a pensive look sweeping across his face. 

"She was the best. My favorite thing in the world is when I see you do something that reminds me of her." You whispered, and Stiles pressed his thumb backwards against the top of your hand. 

"Like what?" He smiled.

"Well any excitement over the Mets, for one. That thing you used to do when you still lived at home and we'd come home and your Dad would be passed out on the couch cause he just couldn't wait up for you anymore."

"What thing?" 

"You'd always put a blanket on him and sort of tuck him into the couch, and I remember seeing your mom do that a few times when we were growing up."

"I actually forgot that she used to do that, but you're right, as always." Stiles felt warm because of how well you knew him. 

"See? You can't marry anyone else at thirty-six. No one else is going to know these things." As you spoke, Cespedes came over to cuddle with his owner, he stepped up onto Stiles, and pressed his paws against Stiles' balls. Stiles groaned loudly, shooed the dog away and brought his knees up to his chest, his face strained in agony. You laughed hard at his overdramatics. 

"You laugh now, but in ten years when you have nothing but me and the pact, and you want kids, and I can't give that to you, your laughter and Cespedes' paws will be the only things to blame." Stiles spoke quickly and sarcastically, and he beamed when he heard you laugh. 

"I can live with that." 

"Can you?" He narrowed his eyes and smirked. 

You glanced up at him and blushed, but said what was on your mind anyway. "I would rub them to make them feel better, but that may by taking my fake girlfriend duties a little too far."

Stiles quirked an eyebrow up and gnawed on his bottom lip. "As my wife, it coul-"

"Drop it." You warned him, amusement still filling your voice up. 

Stiles snickered and grew quiet for a few minutes. "So, we ran that sting that we'd been planning-"

"I thought today was supposed to be a slow day.." 

"Me too." Stiles snickered, unenthusiastically.

"The one with the crazy survivalist guy?" You asked, knowing all the ins and outs of Stiles' job because you were his main confidant when it came to work, or really any aspect of his life. 

"The one and only. His buddy sort of hit me in the face with the bottom of a lamp when we breached the house."

"How did he manage that?" You asked, still spinning his ring on his finger, not looking up because you didn't want to see the injury that he was telling you about, as minor as it was.

Stiles snorted and then shook his head. "I don't know.. but I was being checked out by the EMT's after, and I kept thinking about the night that.. with Donovan."

That name caught your attention fully. You ceased your mindless movement and looked up at Stiles, glancing down at you, waiting to see your y/e/c eyes. "Why the hell were you thinking about Donovan?"

"I was thinking about how the night that it happened, how I showed up at your house, and how you.. I mean, I was covered in blood, Y/n.. I had literally murdered someone."

"It was self-defense." You corrected him.

Stiles smiled and nodded. "I know, but you didn't know that, and you just pulled me in and cleaned me up and literally aided and abetted me in covering up an actual homicide, and you never blinked. You waited until I was ready to tell you what had happened, and I never felt like you were judging."

"I wasn't. He tried to kill you. Why were you thinking about all of this though, Stiles?" You asked, furrowing your brow in concern.

Stiles exhaled loudly through his nose and brought his free hand up to the back of your head to gently massage your scalp. He broke eye contact with you and stared at the brown ceiling fan slowly rotating above his bed. "I had just been in an altercation at work, that could've gone much worse if I hadn't shot the guy in the knee immediately after he hit me with a _fucking_ _lamp_."

"You shot a guy in the knee today?" You asked, bewildered and concerned. 

" _Yea_." Stiles said nonchalantly, his brows stitched together causing an outbreak of wrinkles across his forehead. "But I had gotten into this fight, this thing, and all that I could think about was that I would get to come home and you would be here with _that_ asshole." Stiles pointed up at Cespedes, passed out on top of his pillows at the head of the bed. He tucked his veiny hand back under yours on his chest, and continued. "I just kept thinking of all of the.. I was thinking about the time when I had that drill sergeant of an instructor at the academy, and he just hated me, and I genuinely thought about quitting, and you just, you wouldn't let me and you were there reassuring me the whole time, and then I was thinking about the Ghost Riders, and the fact that it was your voice that I heard that pulled me back through the rift, and the fact that it was you who convinced my Dad that I was real.."

You felt your heart become very heavy and your emotions began to pool in the back of your throat, as you listened to Stiles talk about all of the things that the two of you had been together through the twenty years of your friendship. "Why were you thinking of all of this though?"

Stiles lowered his voice to a whisper, and closed his eyes. "I'm grateful for you. You've always been there for me, and I just, it got me thinking about how I don't know what I would do without you in my life." He paused, opening his mouth as if he were about to speak again, when suddenly the timer on the oven echoed through his apartment. "Of course. _Of_ _fucking_ _course_."

"I can ignore it."

"And burn my chicken? _Nuh-uh_." Stiles sent you a lopsided smile, and you got up. You grabbed his laundry basket off of the floor of his bedroom, and placed it in front of the closet that held his stacked washer and dryer. Stiles followed you and watched you trot off to the kitchen to tend to dinner. He opened the closet, and then saw your head pop out from around the corner of the long hallway. 

"Would you just come relax? You had a long day, I said I would do it." He continued throwing his clothes into the washing machine, until you glared at him hard and he ceased his action. 

"Fine, fine, fine." He lifted his hands in a fake surrender, and smiled softly at you returning to the kitchen. "Hey, uh, beer doesn't really go with chicken parmesan, does it?" Stiles yelled, digging through his pantry, that only remained stocked as well as it was because you often cooked at his apartment.

Nights where Stiles would come home from work and you were making dinner and playing with Cespedes were not uncommon since you both moved back to Beacon Hills a few years prior. Something felt different about this particular night though, and Stiles couldn't pinpoint if it was because you were wearing his pants, you both were wearing your wedding rings, or you had agreed to stay over, for really no reason at all other than he asked you to. He assumed it was all of the above that caused him to feel like there was a shift, like he should be confident enough to tell you how he truly felt. 

"Not really. Do you still have that Syrah? The red?" You yelled, hearing him rummaging around in the hallway.

"I read your mind." Stiles grinned from behind you, holding the bottle of dry red wine in his hand. You beamed back at him, quirking your brows up, then took the bottle to open it. "What kind of music are you feeling?" He asked, walking over to his laptop, that was hooked up to the speakers in his living room. 

"Oldies. I don't care what though. Maybe some Marvin Gaye or something." You yelled, screwing the corkscrew into the neck of the bottle.

Stiles smirked. He suddenly felt inspired. That shift, the brand new confidence, helped him hatch a plan. He knew how he was going to tell you what he had been thinking since Vegas, or really, since he decided that girls weren't disgusting and you were really pretty around the age of nine. The distinct sound of a drumstick lightly tapping a cymbal and horns swelling filled the apartment as soon as Stiles hit ' _Play_ '. He heard you squeal from the kitchen and he walked back towards you. 

" _Let's stay together... I, I'm so in love with you, whatever you want to do, is alright with me..."_

"Oh, Al Green, you hit the nail on the head with this." He stepped onto the tile floor and saw your hands reaching up to the ceiling, then dropping gracefully to smooth the hair down on the back of your head, as your hips swayed to the rhythm. He quietly approached your dancing figure and listened as you sang along, your voice as sweet and melodic as ever. You turned around, sensing him behind you, and began happily singing and dancing at him. " _Cause you make me feel so brand new, and I want to spend my life with you."_ You pointed at him playfully and he laughed.

"Dance with me?" Stiles reached his hand out for yours, and you grinned.

He spun you around quickly, then pulled you tightly against him, one hand still gripping yours between the two of you, and the other resting on the small of your back, as the two of you glided through the kitchen and living room, smiling and singing to each other.

" _Let me be the one you come running to. I'll never be untrue. Oh baby, let's, let's stay together_."

Stiles felt his heart begin to race as he prepared himself to admit a lifelong secret to you. He felt completely head over heels for you, watching the utter joy and happiness that exuded from every pore of your body, as you sang to him and stared adoringly up at him. 

" _Loving you whether, whether times are good or bad, happy or sad_."

"Y/n.." Stiles interrupted your serenade, you sang a little quieter and happily stared up into his beautiful amber eyes. "What if we didn't go back to Vegas at the end of the week?" 

You paused, but Stiles kept you moving slowly against him, now offbeat with the music as ' _Let's Stay Together_ ' moved into ' _I Can't Get Next To You_ ', as the computer worked its' way through Al Green's Greatest Hits album. His facial expression read a nervous confidence that you had seen a lot on him as a teenager, but enjoyed when it had turned into just confidence as he matured into adulthood. "Are.. are you just teasing me because of the song that was just playing? You're just teasing me.." You stumbled over your reply.

Stiles continued to sway with you in smaller steps, and he shook his head softly. "I'm being serious."

"If we don't go back to Vegas, we'd still be married." You clarified, in case he somehow didn't understand that.

He smiled and nodded. "I know... I know, and I... What if we finally tried this? What would you think of us being.. an ' _us_ '?" Stiles literally danced around the straight up truth.

You brought your free hand up from his muscular back to his neck, and you looked for signs of sarcasm or teasing, but you found none. "Are you saying you want to.. I don't know what you're saying, Stiles."

"I'm saying I want to take you on a date, and then another date, and then probably ten million more dates after that because you're my best friend and I already know basically everything about you and I love every last one of those things." 

"And being your best friend, that's not enough for you anymore?" You asked, lightly brushing your fingers through the chocolate brown locks brushing against the top of the collar of Stiles' t-shirt. 

Stiles furrowed his brow, and finally stopped swaying, instead opting to just stand in the middle of his living room, staring at you. "No, Y/n. Is it good enough for you?" You shook your head lightly, and Stiles felt his heart leap into his throat. "These past few days, getting to act like I was your boyfriend, like I was the one you wanted, getting to kiss you and hold you, and wake up with you in my arms..." Stiles squeezed you a little tighter, as the truth poured out of him like a levee breaking after a downpour. "All any of that did was make me realize that I _wanted_ that ring on your finger right now to be from me..."

"Stiles... are you sure this isn't you just getting swept up in the emotions of this weekend and L-"

"No, god no, this was a long time coming, Y/n. This week just made me realize I couldn't keep denying it." Stiles waited, anxiously for your reply. 

"So, what? We stay married, and then go on a date? That's a little out of order.." You smirked up at him, and the biggest, toothiest beam you had ever been witness to broke out across his face in response to your smile. 

"I figured there was no point in divorcing you if I was just going to marry you again in ten years." He teased halfheartedly. Some of that statement was the truth in Stiles' head. He was so certain that if you felt the same way he did and the two of you gave a relationship a shot, that he would end up married to you inside of a year anyway.

"This isn't our first date though, right? Cause I'm wearing sweatpants that are only staying up because I rolled them at the waist like eleven times." You joked, and Stiles' laughter filled your heart with the purest happiness.

He shook his head, still gripping your hand in his between the two of you and holding you close. "No, th-" He was cut off by the doorbell ringing. He chose to act like he never heard it. "This isn't o-" The doorbell sounded again, and he became aggravated. " _Seriously_? I wait basically the majority of my life to have this conversation with you and someone decides to come over? You, Scott and Allison are the only ones who ever come here. I swear if this is Scott, I'll-" He grumbled his way to the door, listening to your faint giggles in the background, only ceasing to be disgruntled when he opened the door. 

"Hey Stiles." You recognized that voice and you sighed, staring down at Cespedes roaming around by your feet. "Am I interrupting something?" Lydia asked, pointing up but really gesturing to the fact that Al Green's " _Love and Happiness_ " was playing at a somewhat loud volume throughout the apartment. She walked in without being invited. "I really need to talk to you, Stiles." She said as she made her way into the living room.

"Now could not be a worse time, Lydia. You should've called or something." Stiles said, following her and not seeing you anymore.

"I did, you never answered and I needed to talk to you tonight."

Stiles patted his thighs, realizing he had already changed, and didn't have pockets anymore. He then remembered that his phone was still in his messenger bag, which sat behind the couch. Cespedes trotted in from the hallway, as Stiles paused the music playing, and suddenly heard the clanking of zippers and buttons hitting the metal inside of his washing machine, and he smiled. He glanced down the dark hallway and saw a small sliver of warm light cascading on his mahogany floors from the crack in his door. He heard his plastic laundry basket drop to the floor and you moving through his bedroom. Lydia followed his gaze, then glanced around the apartment: chicken parmesan, two empty wine glasses, a bottle of red with the corkscrew sticking out of the top, and a purse hanging off the back of one of the dining room chairs. 

"I am interrupting something." 

"So much, you don't even understand." Stiles said, a hint of annoyed sarcasm in his tone. 

"It's fine." You spoke, as you closed the door to the closet with Stiles' laundry machines, and approached the former couple. You had changed back into your jeans and the light sweater you had brought with you, and were slipping your clean, white Keds back onto your feet. "I was supposed to go over to Scott and Ally's to get the dogs at seven anyway, and I was just going to text her and tell her I would get Beta and Scooby in the morning, but I guess I can do it now after all." You smiled up at Stiles. 

"Uh, Y/n, you-" Lydia began awkwardly, because Stiles cut her off.

"Don't go, we were ju-" 

You cut Stiles off, when you pressed your right hand against his brawny chest. You gazed into his amber eyes, reassuring him that it was okay, and leaned up to leave a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. Stiles sighed quietly and closed his eyes at your touch; it was everything he needed and more. "I'll just go over, help them pack a little before they leave for the honeymoon tomorrow, grab the dogs, and I'll be back in a couple of hours?"

"I'll keep the food warm." Stiles promised, all of your and his words somehow holding new contexts and meanings. 'I'll keep the food warm' suddenly meant, 'I don't want to eat any of my meals without you anymore', and 'I'll be back in a couple of hours' suddenly meant, 'I can't wait to be back in your arms again'. He felt giddy. 

"I started the laundry, don't forget to put it in the dryer." You said, your right hand finding his left hand, and gently pulling his wedding band off his finger. He glanced down as he felt the metal slide across his skin, and he saw you pull yours off too, and then tuck them into your front jeans pocket. 

"Okay." He smiled.

" _Okay_." You repeated before leaning up and placing a longer, deeper kiss on his lips, which Stiles returned fully, his now naked left hand ghosting your cheek. He sighed when you broke the kiss, grabbed your purse and phone, and headed to the door. "I'll be back around nine." You yelled as you closed the door behind you, leaving the exes alone to their conversation.

Stiles rubbed his fingers against his bare ring finger and smiled, zoning out of the moment, and replaying the conversation that had taken place no more than twenty minutes before. He heard Lydia shuffle her feet on his hardwood floor, and he glanced up at her heading towards his kitchen. "You had to talk to me?" He asked, still somewhat absent minded and airy. 

"Do you mind if I?" Lydia pointed at the bottle of wine on the counter, and Stiles shook his head as he then walked past her towards the now cold dinner still in the baking dish on the top of the stove. He turned the oven down to it's lowest setting and slid the glassware back inside. When he turned, Lydia was handing him a very full glass of red wine, while sipping at her own. 

"Thanks." Stiles muttered, taking the drink from her and heading to the living room. "Is everything okay, Lydia?" He asked, as he looked around the room for his dog, and then figured he probably headed back to the bedroom when you left. 

The strawberry blonde flame from his past sat down on the couch next to him and took another large sip of the alcohol in her cup. "I'm heading back to Cambridge tomorrow, so I really needed to talk to you tonight."

Stiles furrowed his brow and took a sip of his wine. "Okay..." He replied hesitantly. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and he could feel the beer from earlier and the few sips of wine already making his fingers and ears tingle.

"Stiles.. Oh god, okay, Jordan and I are having some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Stiles took another sip.

"We've been fighting ever since the engagement, and just, a part of me was hoping that you were still single, I thought you were, and then just seeing you with Y/n this weekend brought back all of these old memories and old feelings that, frankly, I was afraid were going to come back when I saw you. I was afraid that I still had them and that was the reason why I never came home. I was afraid to see you, Stiles. I was afraid of what it would make me feel."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at his former love and scrunched his face in agitation. "What is it making you feel, Lydia?" 

"Like we, you and I, Stiles, we could work this out." Stiles sat in a stunned silence. "Please say something."

Stiles erupted to his feet. "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, LYDIA?!" Cespedes came running and barking at the sound of Stiles yelling. "Cespedes, go lay down!" He yelled at his dog, who ran off back to the bedroom, his tail between his legs. Stiles turned his ire back on its intended target. "YOU.. YOU... YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME. YOU'RE ENGAGED, LYDIA!"

Lydia's eyes welled with big tears as Stiles' face grew redder and redder with rage. She shook her head with shame. "I know, but I don't think it's working, and I think it's cause I'm still in love with you."

"I haven't dated you in five years! You're insane!" Stiles was still yelling, but no longer at an octave that would prompt a domestic disturbance call from one of his neighbors. "And not to mention, Lydia, but you were the one who fucking ended it with me, if you were still so in love with me, why the fuck did you end it?"

Lydia finally stood, and began pacing away from Stiles, her hand rubbing red marks onto her forehead. "I was twenty and I was doing so well at MIT and I missed you, but you weren't willing to come up there to be with me, an-"

Stiles cut her off, the rage filling his face again as he yelled. "I WAS TRYING TO GET INTO THE FBI, LYDIA. YOU KNEW THAT!"

Lydia grimaced at his raised tone, but continued. "And I just couldn't do the long distance anymore, Stiles. I was going out of my mind not being able to see you, and I was worried that you were going to drag me back here when it was all said and done, and I was finished with Beacon Hills and all of the supernatural, Stiles. I couldn't do any of it anymore."

Stiles paused, finally calming, but still seething at her. "I call bullshit, Lydia. I call bullshit on all of it." Lydia shook her head and scrunched her face in confusion. "You are claiming you broke up with me because of the long distance?"

"Yes, you had just started getting into the Academy cross training with school and you were never available. I didn't see you for months, Stiles. That was horrible."

Lydia really knew how to get under Stiles' skin. He hated that she could still evoke this kind of reaction and passion from him. "You claim long distance, and then six months later are dating a guy that lived across the country. That's just fucked up, Lydia. Do you know what that did to me? That shit tore me apart."

Lydia stepped towards Stiles, and he stepped backwards in response. He was livid, and he was suddenly reliving the past trauma of their breakup. She paused in place, wringing her hands in front of her nervously, and staring at the space in between them. "Jordan texted me after we broke up to see if I was okay, and I ended up confiding in him and I fell for him. I'm sorry. I know we did the long distance thing for a year, but after that, he gave up everything in Beacon Hills to move to Cambridge to be with me, and I thought that... He was familiar and kind and loyal and I love him for that, but Stiles..." Lydia stepped forward again, this time, Stiles stood frozen in front of her. She pressed her hands against his chest, and stared up into his distraught eyes. "I don't think I ever stopped being in love with you." Stiles finally made eye contact with her, unable to hide the angry tears welling up along his lashline. She pressed her hand against his cheek, and Stiles closed his eyes in confused agony. "I love you still." She leaned up and pressed her lips against his, and Stiles immediately recoiled back towards the wall. 

"WHAT THE FUCK... are you doing, Lydia?! Are you fucking kidding me?"

Lydia was stunned by Stiles' reaction. She clutched her hand to her stomach as if she had been punched. "I... I just wanted you to remember.. I regret it all so much. I really do, Stiles." Lydia was so swept up in her emotions, that she stepped towards him again. "I know what we had was real, Stiles, you have to remember how you once felt." She pressed her hands against his arms gently, stood on her tippy toes, and whispered something from their past, before placing another kiss on his lips. "'Remember, I love you.'" Stiles didn't pull away immediately. He remembered saying those words to her in his Jeep before the Ghost Riders took him away, and he got wrapped up in the memory of what was for only a moment. 

Stiles pushed Lydia off of him lightly, and quickly walked towards his kitchen to get away from her. "I loved you.. I don't anymore. I... I..." Stiles ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands, trying to will the words to come out of his brain. He was frazzled. "I was twenty when we broke up. It's been six years, Lydia. You don't know me anymore. You know who does know me? Y/n. I am in love with her. None of what you saw this weekend was for show. That is how I feel about her. I am... She's the one. She's it. She is my be all, end all. She always was." Stiles walked into his kitchen, dumping the unfinished beer in the bottles on the counter down the drain, then placed the bottles on the cool metal of the sink. Stiles braced his hands against the edge of the counter, and leaned against it. He shook his head at Lydia. "I think you should leave."

Lydia grabbed her purse off of the counter and walked towards the door, before pausing to say one last thing. "I believe that you love her, I do. But I also hope that this isn't finished between us. I know what we had was special, Stiles...." She caught his eyes from across the room, and she softened her face. "My mom is selling the house. I am coming back up here Friday morning so I can clear out my old room and take what I want from the place. I'll be staying there, but you should come over.. so we can talk more. Please."

Stiles watched Lydia leave his apartment. He walked over to the coffee table, grabbed the wine glasses, and dumped the contents out into the sink. Cespedes trepidatiously walked out to check on his owner, and Stiles sat down on the hardwood floors next to his couch, petting his dog and quietly apologizing for yelling. He dropped his forehead against Cespedes' and felt his dog lick his face. He smiled softly, then thought about what was missing from that moment. He reached for his phone in his messenger bag. He saw the texts from Lydia and thought back on what he had just done. The panic began to rise. 

* * *

 

"Is that Stiles texting you?" Allison asked Scott, as he paused in the middle of the room, staring down at his iPhone with a concerned look on his face.

"Is Lydia still there?" You piled on top of Allison's question. 

"I think she, uh, I think she just left." He muttered, not looking up as he furiously typed on his phone. 

"What's wrong?" Allison questioned, concern and curiosity apparent in her tone. 

Scott furrowed his brow and shook his head, trying to have an unspoken conversation with his new wife. "Nothing." He said quietly.

"I don't have to be a werewolf to know you're lying, Scott." You stood from the floor next to Allison's suitcase and walked over to your other best friend. "What'd he say?" You reached for his phone.

Without thinking, Scott lifted it high above his head, out of your reach, and you contorted your face like he was crazy. "Y/n, Stiles just texted you." Allison said, lifting your phone off of the floor. Both yours and Scott's heads whipped around to look at the beautiful brunette still sitting cross-legged on the hardwood next to their bed. You took the phone and checked the message.

 **Biles Bilinski** : _You coming back over_?

You grinned, until you looked back up at Scott who was typing quickly on his phone, complete panic set into his eyes. "Okay, what the hell are you two talking about?" 

"Y/n, I really do-"

"Scott.. just tell us." Allison scolded him out of concern.

Scott looked like he wanted to cry suddenly, guilt and sadness covering his face. " _Stiles and Lydia kissed_." You felt like you were going to be sick. You snatched the phone out of Scott's hand and read the text message.

 **Stiles Stilinski** : _Dude, I'm freaking out_. 

 **Stiles Stilinski** : _Lydia kissed me.. twice_.

 **Stiles Stilinski** : _I kissed her back the second time_.

 **Scott McCall** : _WHAT THE FUCK_!

 **Scott McCall** : _STILES WHAT THE FUCK!_

 **Stiles Stilinski** : _I feel like I'm having a panic attack..._

 **Stiles Stilinski** : _I fucked up, didn't I?_

You handed Scott his phone back, and shook your head, rubbing your hand against your mouth, trying to keep the churning bile down in your stomach. You gripped your phone in your hand and then scanned the room for your purse. Scott and Allison were frozen in place, horror covering their faces over what had just happened. 

"Um, Al, can you help me get the dog's stuff together?" You asked, pulling your shoes back on.

Allison scrambled to her feet. "Yea, yea, let me grab the bags and their leashes." 

"Don't worry about this, just enjoy your honeymoon. The wedding was beautiful." You hugged Scott, who barely hugged you back, unable to move as the shock still had a hold on his body. 

You got in your car, the dogs settling into the backseat together, and you looked at your phone; an unread text from Stiles flashed on your screen.

 **Biles Bilinski** :  _I still wanna watch a movie and I haven't eaten yet, and I wanna hear about yours and Cespedes' day. He won't tell me a thing_.

 **Biles Bilinski** : _Please come back, Gizmo_.

You honestly thought for a moment that you might be sick. Your heart was racing, your body felt cold and your hands shook as you composed your reply.

 **You** : _i'm gonna go home_.

 **You** : _can your dad take Ces to work with him in the morning_? 

Stiles stared at the words on his phone and his heart sank. He didn't understand why you didn't want to come back to his place suddenly. He just wanted to keep talking to you about your relationship. He stared at the half empty wine bottle on the counter in the kitchen and he grew resentful and angry towards Lydia for ruining his night. In a fit of rage, Stiles grabbed the bottle, walked to his front door, and chucked the bottle hard, watching it shatter on the sidewalk in front of his building. He slammed the door shut and then just stood there, in his dark hallway with his phone in his hand and his chest heaving with aggression. He opened his Favorites and pressed your name and waited while the line rang.

" _What_?" You were short with him.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked, angered by how short you were right off the bat.

" _You kissed her back_." You spoke less harshly, the hurt seeping through your words.

Stiles stuttered, suddenly it all clicked, and he was mortified. "Y/n.. I.."

" _After that whole conversation, after everything you said.. I can't believe you kissed her back_."

"Y/n, I didn-"

" _I have to go_." 

Stiles heard the line go dead and suddenly, he was sitting there, alone in his apartment, left to live with his actions.


	6. The One Where Stiles Knows He Messed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regardless of Stiles' repeated attempts to apologize for kissing Lydia, Stiles and Y/n return to Las Vegas to get their annulment.

__"It's Y/n, sorry I couldn't come answer your call, leave me a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!"__ Stiles waited for the line to beep before he spoke _._

 _"_ Hi. It's me. I'm uh, I'm just laying in bed with Ces, missing you.. I wish you were here... I don't even know what to say. I hate not knowing what to say to you. This just doesn't feel right. I wish you would talk to me. I just wanna talk to you about what happened last night, Y/n. I'm so sorry. Fuck. Um, I'll try you again tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/n."

* * *

 _"It's Y/n, sorry I couldn't come answer your call, leave me a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!"_ Stiles waited for the line to beep before he spoke.

"Hey, it's me, aaaagain. It's WednesdayI'm gonna keep calling you until you pick up. Cespedes misses you... We tried coming by on our run this morning but I guess you already went to work. Listen, Y/n, I'm so fucking sorry. Please just talk to me. Let me explain... I'm gonna keep calling..... Okay. Call me." Stiles hung up the call and killed his beer. He glanced down at Cespedes, who looked up at him and then walked away. "Oh come on, you can't be mad at me too!" He yelled at his dog. 

* * *

" _It's Y/n, sorry I couldn't come answer your call, leave me a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!"_ Stiles waited for the line to beep before he spoke.

"It's me. Again. It's Thursday and this has got to be the fortieth message I've left you." Stiles paused and sighed heavily. "Please call me back. I am absolutely miserable, Y/n. I just.. I'm just so sorry. Please call me back.... Alright. Bye." Stiles clicked the red button and hung up the call. 

* * *

Stiles sat in his afternoon briefing, glazing over what the supervisory agent was saying to the room about the new protocols for paperwork. Stiles was finding it impossible to concentrate on anything. He slumped low in his chair, swiveling it back and forth on its wheels, until he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He glanced up at his colleague still rambling on about the importance of getting their reports in on time, and he pulled his phone out, keeping it hidden under the table. His muscles tensed in excitement and dread when he saw your name on the screen. 

 **Gizmo Y/L/N** : _are you still driving tomorrow or are we going down separately_?

Stiles' heart sank to the bottom of his stomach and he found himself struggling to breathe. He knew that you were texting him in your seventh period break. He quietly excused himself from the meeting and stepped into the hallway. He pressed the call button next to your name and waited, assuming that you wouldn't pick up.

" _Hello_?" You sounded so agitated but Stiles didn't even care. He had just missed your voice. 

"Hey.." He winced and shook his head, internally scolding himself over the fact that 'hey' was the best he could do.

" _So are you driving tomorrow or am I just meeting you there_?" You asked, not wanting to bother with small talk. 

"Y/n, please, let's not go. Just let me come over tonight after work and explain what happened. Please." 

" _We're going to Vegas tomorrow, Stiles_."

"I don't want to do this. I don't, I don't want to go. I want to talk to you and I want to work this out." He pleaded, but you weren't having any of his begging. 

" _I don't fucking care. I spoke to a lawyer on Wednesday and he said that as long as we fill out all of the paperwork properly on Monday, this should all be pretty easy. I just want to get it over with, so I ask again, Stiles, are you driving both of us or am I driving down by myself_?" 

Stiles felt his chest physically tighten and his breathing become labored over the fact that you had spoken to a lawyer. This was it; he was losing you, quickly. He thought that maybe if he drove you, at least he would have an about eight hour drive to Las Vegas to explain what happened and to change your mind. He had to try. "I'll drive us."

" _Bring Cespedes. Liam is going to pick up all three dogs around eleven and watch them this weekend. We should get on the road by nine. It's a long drive._ " You spoke coldly and Stiles rubbed his fingers into his pectoral muscle, trying to force the heartache to stop.

"I'll be there at eight."

" _Fine_." 

"Y/n, please just let me come over tonight. I'm so sorry, I just want to explain."

" _I have to go Stiles. Class is starting and students are in my room_."

Stiles glanced at his watch. You were lying. He knew your schedule that well. He sighed heavily, letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in. "Yea, sorry. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good class."

" _Thanks. Bye_." And just like that, the line went dead, and Stiles began to feel his breathing become more staggered, and less stable. He felt his adrenaline begin to rise and his vision begin to blur and he knew what was coming. He rushed into the closest bathroom and sunk to the floor, trying to hold off tears as he began to hyperventilate. He fumbled with his phone and pressed the call function next to your name again.

" _What_?" You were short with him, until you heard the sound of short and shallow breaths through the receiver. " _Stiles_?"

"I can't br.. I can't breathe." He mumbled to the best of his ability. 

Your voice lowered and became a bit softer in its tone. " _Stiles, you know what to do. Count your fingers. Count them out loud for me_." 

Stiles complied. "One... Two.... Oh god... I can't.."

" _Keep counting. Come on. One, two, what number is your middle finger, Stiles_?" 

"Three... Four... Five..."

" _That's one hand. Make sure there are five on the other. Count it out for me_." You went through his process with him. 

"Six... Seven..... Eight.. Nine.. Ten." His breathing became slightly more normalized. 

" _Do you need to go through it a second time_?" You whispered into the phone.

"I'm okay. I think I'm okay.. Thank you for picking up." He said through pants. 

" _Yea.. Uh, listen, I really do have class starting in a few minutes now, I gotta get back inside_."

Stiles nodded. "Okay."

" _You'll be okay, Stiles. I'll see you tomorrow morning_." You whispered. 

"See you tomorrow." He repeated before hanging up.

* * *

Stiles pulled at the bottom of his red and black flannel, and took his jet black Rayban wayfarer sunglasses off his nose, hooking them over the top of his shirt. He glanced down at Cespedes, excitedly wagging his tail, knowing exactly where he was. Normally, Stiles would use his key and just come right in, but he felt awkward and uncomfortable so he knocked and he waited. The door opened and two dogs burst out to greet Stiles and Cespedes. 

"Hey, um, come on in, I just have to do a couple more things and we can go." 

Stiles sent you a lopsided smile and entered your small, one bedroom apartment. He dropped Cespedes' bag by the door, pulled out a chair to your small dining room table and sat, unsure of what to do with himself. He was grateful for his dog. Cespedes could sense that something was wrong with his owner and he stayed by Stiles' feet. Stiles picked the medium sized rescue mutt off the floor and sat him in his lap, petting him lovingly and watching Beta and Scooby fight over a chew toy in the living room. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the wooden chair, still petting Cespedes, not hearing you come back into the room with your small duffel and backpack. You watched him, caring and gentle, and it broke your heart. You cleared your throat intentionally and watched his head jerk up. 

"Ready to go?"

Stiles nodded, dropped Cespedes to the floor, and walked out to the car with you. He tossed your bags into the trunk and pulled out of the driveway. He had been in the Jeep with you hundreds of times but he had never felt so awkward and uncomfortable before. He tried to start the conversation. "So, um, you got off of work on Monday?"

You zipped up your Beacon Hills High School volleyball coach sweatshirt and nodded. "Yea, I had a test scheduled for Monday anyway, so the kids just get a sub to proctor it. I had to move around some guidance appointments for later in the week, but Principal Martin was understanding."

"Did you tell her why you were taking off?" Stiles asked, glancing between the road and you.

"No. I told her I needed a personal day. Lydia will never know that you accidentally married me." You said angrily.

"Y/n," Stiles sighed, and rubbed his hand over his face. "that wasn't why I asked. I don't care if she knows. I don't care if everyone knows. I want them to know, maybe then it'll be harder fo-"

"You know what, I think I'm going to try to nap. I couldn't sleep at all last night." You cut Stiles off, and he sighed again. You pulled at the seatbelt and turned your body in the passenger seat, towards the window, facing away from Stiles. 

"Alright." He muttered, feeling defeated. 

You slept for an hour and a half, and then pretended to sleep for two more, just to avoid talking to him. You woke up and watched out the window as the sky grew gray and rain began to pelt the windshield. You sighed, uncomfortable in your position, your hip falling asleep, and you sat up. Stiles straightened up in the driver's seat when you finally stirred. 

"You've been sleeping for miles." He spoke quietly, garnering a glance from you. "Do you feel better?" 

"I guess." You quirked your eyebrows up unconvincingly. "How much longer?"

"Four hours." Stiles answered, watching you slip your shoes off and tuck your feet under your legs. "Y/n, can we talk?"

You looked at Stiles, not paying nearly enough attention to the slippery road in front of him, and you shook your head. "I actually have some papers to grade."

"Can you do that later?" Stiles asked. "Or can you talk to me while you do that?"

"No, and you know I can't concentrate if you're talking, so it's best if we're just quiet."

Stiles gripped the steering wheel tighter and reluctantly, and frustratedly nodded. "Sure. Sorry."

You got through the entire stack of essays, from two of your four classes, about the consequences of the Great Recession of 2008, by the time you were driving into the Las Vegas city limits. Stiles had an overwhelming desire to pull an illegal U-turn, and high tail it out of Nevada as quickly as possible. He didn't want the two of you to end, especially in such an epically tragic way. He pulled into the parking garage of the hotel that you two had stayed at the first time, a couple weeks before, and the two of you checked into separate rooms.

Stiles stood awkwardly next to you on the elevator to your floor, one below his, and he shifted his duffel over his shoulder. "Um, do you want to get dinner with me in a little?"

"I'm not really hungry, I think I'm just going to turn in early." You brushed him off. 

"Y/n, we didn't stop for lunch. You have to eat. Come on, just a burger or something? My treat." Stiles tried to reason with you, hoping that maybe you would give him the chance to explain over food. 

You saw the elevator reach the seventh floor and you stepped forward. "I'm not hungry. I'll see you Monday morning." 

"Goodnight." Stiles muttered as the doors closed behind you and suddenly he was alone.

* * *

"Oh, it's you again."

"Excuse me?" Stiles genuinely asked, glancing up from his hand which had been quietly tapping on the table in front of him. 

"You're back, where's your girlfriend?" The waitress asked, her hands pressed firmly against her hips. 

"My girlfriend? I'm sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else."

"No, no, I remember you. Whiskey neat and a mojito, that she thought I would spit in. You were here with a wedding party, right? She's like this tall, y/h/c hair, black dress and heels?" The waitress described you and Stiles' eyes widened.

"Uh, yea, yea, yes. That was us. Wow, I'm sorry, I drank so much, I don't remember much from that night.." Stiles laughed uncomfortably and then shot his head back up. "Wait, she thought you'd spit in her mojito.. I think I remember that, but how do you know she said that?"

The waitress looked around the mostly empty bar and then sat down in the chair across from Stiles, who sat up straighter, surprised at the relaxed nature of the girl in front of him. "Did you guys not realize that the computer, that I input all of your orders into, was behind your table? Like, _directly_ behind the seat you two were in. I heard most of your conversation, I didn't mean to, just you know, I have ears."

Stiles snickered at her comment, and shook his head. "No, it's fine. It's good that someone remembers what happened here that night."

The waitress saw her only other table looking like they needed attention, so she stood. "What are you doing back anyway?" 

"I've been hoping to drink..." Stiles said with a smirk.

"Oh, oh god, right. Uh, sorry. Whiskey neat?" Stiles nodded and she ran off to do her job.

After a few minutes, and tending to her other table who just wanted their check, the waitress came back with his drink. "Can I do anything else for you?"

"Um, yea, can you tell me what you remember us talking about that night? If anything?" 

The waitress sat down again, and nodded. "Normally no, there'd be no reason to remember, but the two of you were having such a strange conversation, it's just stuck with me."

"Strange?" Stiles asked, leaning in, his hands wrapped around the small glass on the table. 

"You were talking about some pact."

Stiles chuckled. "We made a marriage pact when we were sixteen. If both of us weren't married by the time we were... whatever, we were going to marry each other." He explained.

"That's cute, but doesn't make me less confused. Were you two not already together or something?"

Stiles tilted his head to the side in confusion. "No. She's my best friend. Why?"

"You two were very intimate for just best friends. You held hands and you kept staring at her, your faces were really close. It was kind of heated." 

"We were holding hands." Stiles asked, less of a question and more of a need to repeat it to let that sink in. "Do you remember the conversation?"

The waitress nodded. "You were convinced you were going to die alone because she was going to leave you. I thought you were having like an argument or something, because she mentioned another girl.. um, Lily or Lila-"

"Lydia?"

The waitress nodded and pointed at Stiles. "Yea, that sounds right. You were just like ' _not Lydia, you're the best girl in the world, Giz_.' Also, what is your friend's name? _Giz_?" 

Stiles laughed and took his first sip of his drink. "Gizmo, like from the movie _Gremlins_? It's a nickname I gave her in college. Her name is Y/n. I'm Stiles, by the way." Stiles put out his hand to shake hers. 

"Alycia. Nice to meet you." She shook his hand and smiled. 

"Wait, I said, ' _you are the best girl in the world, Giz_ '?" Alycia nodded. "Shit, she was remembering pieces of that night. I did say that."

"Did she remember you telling her that you had a crush on her growing up and in college and that you would be wrecked when she left you for some other guy?"

"I said that to her?" Stiles looked stunned at his drunken self's honesty.

"Yea, and then you were like ' _I'm being friendzoned by you_ ' and she was like, ' _There's no one else but you, maybe if you had said something, if would be us getting married on Sunday_ ', or something like that. It was all very dramatic."

Stiles' heart was racing. He gripped the sides of the glass so hard that he thought it might break in his hand. "Holy shit." It was all that Stiles could say.

"You asked her if she liked you and she said ' _You really never knew_?' and then the two of you got interrupted by your friends and left for dinner."

"She loved me. She always loved me. I had no idea." Stiles spoke to himself, stunned by the revelation. 

"Did something happen between the two of you after?" Alycia pried. 

Stiles glanced around the room. "How long do you keep your security footage for?" 

Alycia looked up at the cameras on the ceiling. "The casino backs it all up for a year and then erases it, but I can't show it to you. You're not like a police officer."

Stiles fished around into his gray pants pocket and pulled out his FBI badge. "I can do you one better. Can you take me to the surveillance booth?"

* * *

Sunday night came, and Stiles knocked on your door, but you didn't respond. He pressed his ear against the wood grain and heard the TV playing so he knew you were in there ignoring him. He knocked again, a little louder this time, then glanced down at his watch. It was nine at night. With the absence of a response, Stiles decided to knock once more, and then try to entice you with his voice. He spoke in a low tone against the wood grain of the door.

"Y/n... open up. I know you're in there." _Silence_. "I will keep knocking until you open up." He knocked again. "Y/n, come on." He knocked once again. "You know how stubborn I am. I will sit out here all night if I have to." He waited but got no response. He knocked, but nothing came from it. "Alright, you did this." He slid his back against your door and began knocking his knuckles against the wood, not loudly, just enough for you to hear. He switched between hands and knuckles, at a certain point using his elbow. It became a contest of who was more stubborn, and Stiles was determined to win. He checked his watch again: forty minutes past nine. His knuckles hurt, but he'd use his feet if he really had to. He continued on his campaign of annoyance, until finally the door swung open and he tipped backwards into your room. 

"Are you _fucking_ serious?" You seethed, staring down at Stiles smiling up at you. "I swear to god, I have half a mind to bash your head in with the door. You are literally the most annoying person to ever live." You glared down at him. 

Stiles scurried to his feet, and stepped into your room. "Y/n, please just let me talk to you." You told him no but you walked back into your room and didn't protest when he followed, the door latching behind him. "I won't sign anything tomorrow if you don't talk to me first." 

"Oh, so you're holding me hostage in this marriage now?" You sarcastically nodded. "That's a good plan. That won't make me hate you more."

Stiles quietly paused and looked at you, sitting cross-legged at the foot of your bed, your TV muted but still bouncing light around your dimly lit room. "You hate me?" 

The way he asked the question hurt you because of how much it seemed to hurt him to ask it. "I don't know." You shook your head, then stared down at your hands in your lap. "I hate what you did."

Stiles took a step forward and your head snapped up at his movement. He stood awkwardly in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself physically, as he tried to find the right next set of words. "I do too." Stiles whispered, bringing his hand up to his face and rubbing it over his cheek, eye, forehead and into his hair. 

"Were you even going to tell me what happened if I came back over that night?" You asked him the thing that had been eating at you. 

" _YES_! Absolutely, yes." Stiles answered quickly and emphatically. "I didn't want to lie, I just didn't want to tell you over the phone."

You shook your head, unsure if you believed him. "You stood in your living room, inches from my face, telling me everything I wanted to hear since I was a little girl, telling me that you didn't want to come here and get this annulment because you wanted to be with me, and you thought that you would end up married to me anyway, and I believed all of it." You paused, trying to choke the tears back, and Stiles remained silent in his shame. "And then you kissed Lydia."

"I know." He muttered quietly. 

"You kissed me, and then you kissed Lydia..." You felt your blood pressure rising. "I know that it's just a Vegas wedding ring, but you were wearing it no more than a minute before I left, **AND THEN YOU KISSED YOUR FUCKING EX, ARE YOU SHITTING ME, STILES**?" Now you were pissed again. You couldn't help but yell. He looked like he had been slapped across the face and you quieted down. "You made me feel like a fucking fool. I still do."

"I'm sorry, Y/n." Stiles whispered, his head hung low, unable to make eye contact with you. 

"You keep saying that, but I don't know if I believe you." You told him, shaking your head. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"In twenty years, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" Stiles stepped forward and sat on the very edge of the bed, a good distance away from you, trying to respect your space.

"No, Stiles, you've never given me a reason not to trust you, until that moment, that fucking moment when I needed to trust you the most, and you.. god, you so royally fucked it up." 

Stiles felt his cheeks warm up and he felt his hands shake. He pressed his palms against his thighs, wiping the sweat off on his navy blue trousers. "I know I did. I know..." He paused, unsure of his emotions. He couldn't tell if he was going to cry or be sick, but he felt like death. His body was physically reacting to all of the guilt and heartache that he was carrying, and it made him feel horrible. "Can I explain what happened?"

You grew angry, feeling like you were going too easy on him. "Fine. Fine. You want to explain? Fine. How was she?" You asked, raising your eyebrows and shrugging, setting a trap for him.

"Wha.. what?"

"How was she? How was the kiss? Was it just how you remembered?" You sat up straighter, your face deadpan, with an underlying tone of rage.

Stiles answered quickly. "It was awful. It was not good. It didn't make me feel good. It, it was nothing, nothing compared to you." Stiles reached across the bed to try to hold your hand, but you lifted it quickly into your lap, shaking your head at him. Stiles felt the salty tears hanging in the back of his throat, and he shut his eyes for a long moment, not wanting to see the woman he loved so thoroughly disgusted with him. He licked his lips, wiping a tear that escaped down his cheek, and looked back over at you, unmoved from your spot, staring blankly at the silent television. "Can I just tell you what happened?" He asked again.

"Is that just going to make me feel worse?" You asked, glancing to your side to look at his furrowed brow and glossy eyes.

"Maybe, but I don't know where else to start." He glanced over and watched you shrug. "She came over to tell me that her and Jordan were having trouble in their relationship-"

"That much I gathered, you know, when she kissed you, Stiles." You interrupted him, angry sarcasm dripping from your words.

Stiles nodded, realizing that was not a good starting point. "Right.. um, well, she said that she felt like she was still in love with me." He paused to look at you, staring at your hands, rubbing your right thumb against the pads of your left fingers, trying to distract yourself from the myriad of horrible feelings swirling through your head and body. He continued. "The first kiss.." He scrunched his face in anger. "The first kiss she sort of lurched at me and caught me completely off guard. I pulled away and just kept her at an arm's length... Then she blamed me and the distance for our break up and I was just so fucking pissed. I was, I don't know, I was screaming at her, and all these old feelings of rage and betrayal came bubbling to the surface. But then she told me she fucked up and she never stopped loving me and she wanted to give it another shot, and she brought up all this stuff from the past, all of the traumatic shit we all went through back then, and I think, I think I got wrapped up in it all... for like only a second though. These were things that I had wanted to hear for a long time from her, but I wanted to hear them a long time ago too... not anymore."

"So why'd you kiss her back?" You asked, tears welling up at the base of your eyelashes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. 

"I didn't, I mean, I did. I only kissed her back for maybe six seconds, Y/n, and then I pulled away. It didn't feel right."

"Because you felt guilty?" You asked, cutting him off, wiping a few tears from your chin and jaw. 

"Because it wasn't you." Stiles looked up and saw you crying, and he reached out to wipe the tears from your face, but you pulled back. He was devastated by the fact that you wouldn't let him touch you. "I asked her to leave, but before she did, she told me that she was coming back to town on Friday and she wanted me to come over so we could talk more and figure out what was going on between us."

"What'd you figure out?" You mumbled, gripping your plaid pajama pants tightly in your fingers.

"Nothing. I didn't go to see her. There was nothing to figure out. I feel nothing towards Lydia."

"You didn't see her?" You stared at the wrinkles on his forehead and then at the seriousness behind his eyes, as he stared back at you behind his long, thick brown lashes. 

Stiles shook his head and moved slightly closer, encouraged by you not moving away. "No. I didn't see her. I called you like ten times last night instead."

"Twelve." You corrected him and he laughed for a moment. 

He corrected himself. "I called you twelve times instead. I drove by your apartment too."

"I know." 

Stiles inched closer again. "I wish I had never let her into the apartment, or more so, that I had never let you leave in the first place. I should've spent the rest of the night holding you and dancing with you and kissing you and telling you all the ways that I am in love with you."

"Don't say that." You shook your head and looked away from him. 

He reached over and scooped your hand up in his, and was encouraged when you didn't pull away. "No, listen.. You were right. I fucked up. I royally fucking fucked up. I know that. I literally told you that I wanted to be your husband and then I went and kissed another woman, and honestly, even saying those words out loud, I think you should lock me in Eichen House because that just sounds insane..." Stiles thought about what he had just said, and he blinked for a few moments, staring quietly at nothing in front of him. " _What the fuck was I thinking_... That sounds insane.. I don't know how you could forgive me, or trust me..."

Stiles shot his head up to see you crying again and he exhaled loudly, your tears physically agonizing for him. He cupped your face in his hands, and you let him, wanting the comfort of his touch. You blinked up at him with blurry eyes and saw his forehead creased with sadness.

"I don't know how you could, but I hope you will. I need you. I... more than that, _it's you_. I want _you_. You are the only one I have ever wanted. It was always you. _It was always you_. I have been in love with you since I was nine, Y/n. Nine. Since Jackson pushed Scott off the swing so that he could use it and he made fun of Scott and I when I went to help him up off the dirt, and instead of sitting there," Stiles squeezed your cheeks in his massive hands, the hot tears rolling off your face and onto his fingers. "you walked up to Jackson and you shoved him off that swing, and you.." Stiles laughed quietly, shaking his head, and pulled a hand off your face to clutch at his chest. "..you kicked him in the stomach, and you just screamed at him that if he was ever mean to Scott and I again that you would come back for him. It was that moment, that was when it changed for me. I was nine when I realized I loved you, Y/n. Nine, and I have loved you every day since, and I have known it, but I was too much of a coward to tell you until now."

You held Stiles' hand against your cheek and shook your head, completely overwhelmed by his declaration of love. "Stiles, I can't.. I used to think of you as somebody that would never, ever hurt me, ever, and all of that has changed now."

Stiles dropped to kneel on the floor in front of you, and you stood, trying to remove yourself from the situation, but Stiles grabbed at you, pulling you back and wrapping his arms around your thighs. You held your balled up fists above him, wanting to touch him, but being too heartbroken to. He pressed his cheek against your waist and you felt the tears begin to roll down your cheeks. You were in agony. This was the man that you had always loved, there were never any others, and he finally reciprocated those feelings, and then turned around and kissed another woman... But you still loved him. He was still Stiles, but he also wasn't anymore. It was different. You were destroyed, and he was the one who had done it. 

"I didn't ever want to hurt you. I have spent twenty years thinking about how to protect you." Stiles tried to remind you of all the good that he had done.

"I think you should go." You finally muttered, in complete despair thinking about all of the times that he had protected you and your heart.

"No, Y/n, please, please, please listen.." Stiles begged, pressing his cheek harder against your body.

You dropped your hands into his hair, verbally pushing him away, but physically holding him close. You were being torn in two. "Stiles, no, I can't-"

"I'm not leaving until you forgive me. I cannot lose you."

* * *

Hours passed and you and Stiles had barely made any headway. Some moments were less tense, some were quiet, most were filled with a heaviness that was all but actually tangible. Stiles sat back down on the edge of the bed next to you. The two of you had been distracting yourselves in the ease of talking about your childhood together. Stiles was trying to remind you of a time when you were in love with him and he had not hurt you. You were just trying to remember something happy.

Stiles stared at you at the end of a story about when you and Scott slept over every night for a week, the days after Claudia had died. He brought his hand up slowly to your face and wiped a tear off of your cheek. Your skin felt like home to Stiles, and he was reassured that you were the only thing in his life worth fighting for.

Stiles spoke, breaking the silence in the room, and you glanced over at him, his eyes red and ready to spill tears. "There is a line that goes all the way from my childhood to you, and it's going to be that way for the rest of my life. I am going.. I can't lose you.. Y/n, I am in love with you. I have loved you since I was a boy. _Please_." Stiles had tear streaks rolling down his face. He grabbed your hands, cupping them in his, and pulled them up to his mouth. "Please." You felt the plea vibrate against your skin.

"I don't know that I can trust you." You whispered between labored breaths and sniffles.

"You spent twenty years trusting me, are you going to let one _horrible_ moment change that?" Stiles asked, heartbroken by the pain in your voice.

"Sometimes one horrible moment is all it takes, Stiles." You shook your head and began to pull away again, but Stiles' grip tightened and he held you closer.

"Can't you find a way?" You began to shake your head, but Stiles continued. "Can't you find a way to forgive me? I know that you still care about me, I know you do. You are still in this too. You have to be. Feelings like that don't just go away in the blink of an eye. Please, can't you just find a way?"

You began to spiral. You wanted to do just that. You wanted to forgive him, and love him, and spend the rest of your life with him. You had already wasted so much time not having him as your own, but all you could think of was his lips against hers, after they had just been on yours. "You were never mine to begin with. I have no real right to be angry with you. It was just a kiss. Well, it was two kisses, but it wasn't like you were mine to begin with. You never were. I, I think that this was just the hopeful girl in me, wanting to believe that you wanted this. But this was a mistake."

"What was the mistake? Loving me? That wasn't a mistake. You didn't make a mistake, Y/n, I swear. I'm the only one who did, but I swear, it was just a mistake." Stiles reasoned.

"It was.. god, we are just talking in circles now, Stiles. We should just put this to rest. I don't think we're getting anywhere any time soon. Let's just put this to rest. We aren't getting this taken care of tonight." You stood, and paced the floor, wiping the tears off your fingers against your pant legs. 

Stiles remained sitting, shaking his head insistently. "No, no, no. Let's do this tonight. I mean, we have so much to cover and I don't know what I'm expecting, but I'm hoping that, at the very least, you'll go back to not wanting to go through with the annulment, for now... at least for now."

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face Stiles, your face contorted in complete shock and amazement at Stiles' gaul. "No.. _NO, STILES_ , **THIS IS HAPPENING**." You pointed to the ground and then walked away from him, settling in the lounge chair in the corner of the room, staring at the pained expression on his face.

He shook his head, dipped his face into his hands, his elbows connected to his knees, and he rubbed. He was fatigued, physically and emotionally, but he would stay up for weeks to get this sorted with you. He ran his hands into his hairline and stared at the floor. "You keep saying things that I wish you wouldn't."

You sat in the chair, your feet curled under you, and your head resting against your fist. You glanced at the clock and it read the time as half past one. You were drained. You hadn't slept properly in days. You'd cry and cry and cry and feel exhausted, but sleep just wasn't coming. It felt twisted that in this moment, the only way that you knew that you could sleep, and sleep well, was if Stiles was curled up next to you. You loved him, and you knew you always would, but it was a long road back to where you were just the week before. You weren't sure if you were willing to take that journey. 

Stiles spoke softly from across the room, but you heard him. He repeated something he had said earlier. "Can't you find a way?"

"I don't know." You whispered, and Stiles lifted his head at the sound of your voice.

He walked over to the chair, sitting on the ottoman in front of it, and hesitantly placing his hands on your leg, wrapping his fingers on his left hand around your ankle. You looked at where you once saw his ring, and your heart ached for that space to be occupied again. He followed your gaze, and he tightened his grip.

"You are in this too." He brought his right hand up to your cheek, tilting your face back up to gaze at him. His amber eyes bore through your soul and caused your chest to constrict. "I've been talking about you to myself, cause there's nobody else. There is not a single soul in the world that I even want to talk to about this because _you_ are my best friend. _You_ are the one that I turn to, and you... shut me out. But there is only you, Y/n. You're it. You're all that I want." Stiles paused and leaned forward, bringing his other hand up to fully cup your cheeks. "And I want what I want, and I want everything." He brought his hand down to press flat against the place on your chest where your heart was, and repeated his words softly. "I want everything." The painful confusion read clearly on your face as you looked at Stiles laying it all on the line for you. "Can't you find a way to forgive me?"

You brought your hands up to rest on his wrists, tears streaming down your face, and you finally spoke. "I want to."

Stiles felt a tsunami wave of hope crash over him, and he lurched forward. "Please. Please, please, please try. You are everything to me and I want every piece of you. Forever. I want all of this, forever." Stiles pushed his thumb against your cheekbone, feeling the tears roll against his fingers. 

"You hurt me, Stiles." You reminded him quietly, staring into his bloodshot amber eyes. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I am eternally sorry. I will never hurt you like that again. You are it. I am certain." 

You shook your head against his hand and whispered. "I don't know, Sti.."

"I do. Let me prove it to you." Stiles waited until your eyes connected with his, and he leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours.


	7. The One Where They Return Their Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Y/n make a decision about their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am usually a huge advocate of protection during sex and longwinded conversations about past partners and testing for STD's and consent and blah blah blah in my fics, and while there is loads of consent in this, and protection, i felt that it was not as necessary as usual to have Stiles and the reader talk about whether or not they were clean or had been tested or whatever. They know each other. In my head, in the same way that my guy friends have overheard conversations with my girlfriends, or have frankly been a part of those conversations, Stiles knew that the reader was on birth control and he had an idea about her sexual history and the risks of having sex with her without that conversation having explicitly taken place prior. 
> 
> ANYWAY. just wanted to throw that out there.

"I do. Let me prove it to you." Stiles waited until your eyes connected with his, and he leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours.

He tasted the saltiness of your tears, as he pulled your top lip in between his. You pushed hard against his mouth, as his hands moved up into your hair. This was desperate and painful, but it was just as good as what you remembered it being before. You thought the way that his lips felt against yours would have changed when he did what he did, but they didn't, he was still Stiles, and you suddenly felt cautious hope for the first time in seven days.

Your hands clung to the front of his unbuttoned blue flannel shirt, as you pulled him closer, your lips still moving against each others. He tilted his head and sucked and tugged and bit at your lips for a few minutes, then pulled away to catch his breath. He hovered over you, staring into your eyes, which instantly opened when his lips were removed from yours, and he suddenly began feeling... defeated. You were quiet and still and impossible to read, and he prepared himself for the worst.

"Please, Y/n, please don't shut me out." Stiles begged quietly, placing both of his hands flat against your chest, just above your heart.

His plea broke your heart. He sounded broken. You couldn't find the strength to keep yourself away from him. It was easier to kiss him and ignore the fight that the two of you were having, then continue going around in circles about him being sorry and you being hurt. Your eyes darted down to his lips, and your hands moved to the collar of his black t-shirt, and you yanked him back in for another kiss.

Stiles moaned into your embrace, so moved by you not rejecting him, by you desiring more of him, that he dropped his hands from your cheeks, to behind your back and legs. He scooped you off of the chair and carried you over to the bed. You leaned against him, still kissing him as he crossed the room, and suddenly you felt your body bounce gently against the mattress below you. Stiles hovered over you again, his body between your legs at the edge of the bed, and you pulled his dark blue flannel down his arms, and he tossed the shirt on the floor behind him. He snaked his body down, pressing it against yours, and pushed his hands up your sides, under your shirt, resting on your ribcage, as he pressed his lips against yours again.

The feeling of your skin against his fingers was intoxicating to Stiles. He connected his lips with yours again and heard you sigh. It egged him on, allowing him to get caught up in the passion and tension of the moment. Your hands tugged at his hair and scrunched up the soft fabric of his black t-shirt against his back, pulling him closer, lost in the heat of the moment. Stiles began sucking against your neck and jaw, biting and licking his way down your throat. His hand worked its way up the fabric of your shirt and connected with your breast.

That was the moment that your brain began to panic; that simple, yet lustful touch was enough to switch on your common sense. You began to overthink. You were still angry. You were still hurt. You were still unwilling to let him off so easy. You hadn’t even scratched at the surface of forgiving him yet. You remembered the situation that put the two of you in that hotel room, in that moment, and everything that prefaced it, and suddenly, Stiles’ touch felt too much.

Your face grew hot and red and your hands stopped moving against his back and head, and Stiles heard you grow quiet underneath him. You were no longer softly moaning, no longer swept up in the moment. Your brain went into overdrive. This was not even remotely what you wanted anymore. Stiles pulled his head away from your neck enough to look up at you.

“Are you okay? Should I stop?” He knew something was amiss.

Instead of simply nodding or saying ‘ _yes_ ’, you panicked. “I can’t.. I.. I, I can’t do this. Please get off. Get off, get off, _GET OFF_.” You raised your voice and Stiles all but leapt backwards from the bed.

He was horrified, watching you scramble backwards onto the mattress, all while tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it back down over your stomach, covering yourself back up. Stiles’ eyes were wide, and he was slightly hunched over, his hands lifted in the air in front of him as he backed away from the bed, slowly. He was trying to make himself small and still, trying not to frighten you or stoke your anxiety further.

“What… What did I do? Did I do something? I’m, I’m so sorry.” He sounded frantic and panicked and mortified, his normally husky and smooth voice, suddenly sticking in the back of his throat.

He watched as you grabbed at your face, digging the base of your palms hard into your brows, dragging them up across your forehead, and running them through your hair, tugging at your strands. The last time he had seen you this spun out was the night your Dad died and he sat with you in the waiting room of the hospital, while your mom was down in the morgue with the doctor. It frightened him seeing this behavior again.

“I can’t do this. No, no, not like this. I haven’t forgiven you…” You muttered, covering your eyes with your hands.

“I didn’t mean to rush you.. I didn’t mean to get caught up in the moment.. _Oh god. Oh fuck_ ..” Stiles took a single step back, his left leg now bearing the weight of his body. He shook his head, a serious grimace covering his face. He began to spiral with you. “I didn’t mean to… I’m such an… _I’m a monster_ , oh my god. Please.. I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

Your head shot up at that word. It snapped you out of your own devolving thought process. You knew Stiles like the back of your hand and you knew the guilt he carried for things he wasn’t actually responsible for. You knew that if the word ‘ _monster_ ’ made you think of the Nogitsune, then that was exactly what Stiles was thinking of too. You watched as he looked around for his flannel, bending over to grab it off the floor.

“Stiles, no. Stop. You aren’t a monster.” You spoke loudly and clearly, moving your body back towards the edge of the bed.

Stiles was internally punishing himself and becoming critical of his actions very quickly. “No, no, I _am_ a monster. I ju- I just climbed on top of you and started kissing you, like that would make everything better. I, I didn’t even ask.” His eyes were squinting with emotional pain, and his forehead was littered with wrinkles and creases; his bottom lip quivered as he thought of what he had done.

“Stiles, stop.” You climbed off of the bed and rushed towards him. “ _Stop_.” You grabbed his wrist and his shoulder, trying to get his attention. “It was just too much, too quickly. You aren’t a monster." You paused, shaking your head and softening your face, as your hand moved up his shoulder and rested on his veiny neck. "I kissed you back. You didn’t force yourself on me, I just, I just lost myself.”

“I should still go.” Stiles was feeling lower than dirt; like he couldn’t stop hurting you suddenly.

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to go. I didn’t ask you to go. I just asked you to stop.” You let go of his neck and wrist and simply stood in front of him, staring up into his red eyes. You sighed. “I haven’t forgiven you yet,” He scrunched up his face, as if he was preparing to cry. “and if we kept going, I would’ve gotten caught up too, and we would’ve done something……” You paused, then looked down at your bare feet against the hotel carpet. “That’s not how I wanted our first time to be.”

Stiles rubbed his hand back and forth in his chocolate brown hair roughly, before slightly raising his voice. “I am a monster. I didn’t even think of it as our first time, Y/n. I was just so wrapped up in wanting to prove to you that I love you and wanting to feel connected to you again that I-”

You cut Stiles off, pressing your hand against his chest instinctively. “I wanted to feel close to you too. I, _god_ , I fucking hate this.” You answered honestly. You began to feel some of your walls coming down in response to seeing Stiles so vulnerable and hurt. “But I can’t even think straight right now, Stiles.” His head shot up from its gaze at the floor and he looked at your furrowed brow and sad eyes. “I am so tired.” You rubbed your hand against your face, small tears of physical and emotional exhaustion spilling from your lashline, and you sniffled slightly. “I haven’t slept in days and I couldn’t even think straight. I couldn’t let this happen.”

You glanced up at Stiles, his concern and dismay reading clearly on his face. “ _Days_?” He asked, the hurt evident in his tone. You didn’t know how to answer, so you simply didn’t say anything. That was all the answer Stiles needed though. "Okay.. I'll, um," Stiles tapped his fingers against his thigh, awkwardly and uncomfortably. "I'm gonna go… Let you sleep." He began to turn to finally pick his shirt up from the floor, when he heard your voice, and his head snapped around to look at you again.

"No." You paused, and Stiles stared straight into your eyes. " _Stay_." You requested, wrinkles creasing into your forehead.

Stiles' confusion read clearly on his face. He didn't understand your mixed signals. "Bu.. you... you just said you weren't thinking straight. Y/n, I already did something to hurt you, I don't want to do anything else, and if you aren't thinking straight-"

You cut him off. "I'm thinking clearly enough to know that I will sleep better if you stay." You said, going out on a limb, hoping that he wouldn't be angered by your indecision. He wasn't. Instead, Stiles felt moved. He felt wanted. He felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off his chest because you didn't want him to leave; because you felt that you would sleep sounder with him close by. He realized that this was a crack in the door, and you were thinking about letting him back in, even if it was only just thinking about it. He was right; you were still in this too. "I haven't slept in days. Please, can you sleep here?" You asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Stiles nodded, the sadness he felt over you not sleeping and not taking care of yourself washed over his face once more. "Absolutely, Giz. Absolutely."

You didn't say anything more. You simply watched Stiles walk over to the lamp in the corner of the room by the desk to turn it off, and then walk over to the lamp next to the left side of the bed to switch that off. You climbed under the covers and watched him. The room was illuminated only by the television, playing a marathon of reruns of _Friends_ , as Stiles passed by the foot of the bed and pulled back the sheets next to you. He leaned against the edge to take off his shoes.

"Are you going to sleep in those pants and that shirt?" You asked, staring at the gray trousers and black t-shirt he wasn't removing.

"Um, I didn't want to uh-" He fumbled with his words.

You shook your head. " _Stiles_..." You sighed, then continued. "We're on pause right now, okay? I'm too tired to be angry with you right this minute. Just, stay, get comfortable, and let's just sleep finally. Please."

Stiles tucked his bottom lip back into his mouth, pressing his teeth against the wet flesh, gently, and he stared at the distance between the two of you. "Giz... I can't sleep if you're going to wake up, unpause this, decide you still hate me, and drag me to the courthouse. I, _fuck_ , I cannot fall asleep, I cannot pause and lose whatever ground I just gained back with you after hours of talking and arguing, I just can't." He raised his voice slightly, and clutched at the fabric against his stomach, in agony over the thought of going to get the annulment in the morning.

You shook your head, saddened by his short monologue. "I won't make any decisions in the morning." You spoke quietly, staring up at Stiles.

Stiles knew you better than anyone, and he knew your penchant for choosing your words carefully. You promised him the morning, but that meant nothing about the afternoon. He glanced up from the floor, feeling nauseous, and met your eyes; they were bloodshot and droopy. You looked completely run down suddenly, eyes straining to stay open as you gently leaned against the pillows, tucking your hands under the cushions, waiting for him to make a decision. He realized it would be worse if he left. At least now, if he stayed, he was proving that he could stick it out during times that were hard for him. He was proving that he would be there when you needed him.

Stiles nodded once, pulled his shirt off over his head, and pulled down his trousers. He crawled into the bed with you, pulling the covers up over his legs and the lower half of his torso, and glanced over at you. You stared up at him and he all but literally read your mind. Stiles nodded gently to his left, beckoning you to come closer, and you did.

"Sleep. I'll join you soon." He whispered, as you curled up next to him, your head resting against his ribcage and your fingers drifting into his chest hair.

* * *

 

You woke up after only sleeping for a couple of hours; the time on the clock above the television read a quarter till two in the morning. You sighed as you realized that it was only a half hour more than you had been sleeping all week. You were truly sleep deprived but you just couldn't _stay_ asleep because nothing had really been repaired and Stiles had been moving under you. You realized that you were laying with your head resting on the top of his lap and that he was sitting up. You glanced over the comforter, resting over your shoulders, and saw a rerun on _Friends_ playing on TBS with the closed captioning on and the volume turned down low; he was definitely still awake. You ran your fingers under the sheets and rubbed at his hairy shin and knee. As soon as your hand began massaging his leg, you felt Stiles' fingers run through your hair.

Stiles smiled down at the beautiful woman laying in his lap, digging her fingers into the corners of her eyes, and he finally stopped stroking her hair, settling his hand on the back of her head. You yawned quietly, your jaw moving against his thigh, and finally looked up at him.

"You okay?" He asked quietly.

"You aren't sleeping..." You mumbled, a melancholy tinge to your groggy voice.

"Neither are you... _Why_ haven't you been sleeping, Gizmo?" He whispered, and you looked down in shame.

You shrugged against his leg. "I don't know.. I guess, I just haven't felt right not speaking to you and I've just been so upset... I don't know. I just haven't been."

" _Giz_..." Stiles sighed.

"Why aren't you sleeping right now?" You asked, turning it back around on him.

Stiles furrowed his brow, his dark hairline bearing down on his forehead, causing wrinkles to form. He spoke quietly. "I can't. I'm afraid of tomorrow."

You remained quiet for a few moments, before your hand wrapped around his knee and tucked under his thigh, under the blankets. You nuzzled your cheek against his hairy and muscular leg, your forehead grazing the soft, bunched up gray cotton of the left leg of his boxer briefs. You felt his fingers lightly massage your scalp as you began to speak just as quietly as he just had. "I am too." You simply replied.

Stiles felt comforted by your mutual fear. He began to move and you lifted your head to watch him, illuminated by the lights from the television. He slinked down next to you, resting on his right side to face you. You turned onto your left side and smiled when he pulled the blankets up to cover his shoulders and yours. You reached across the small distance, peeking under the sheets, looking for his hand. You fit your fingers in the spaces between his when you finally found his familiar, rough and veiny hand. He rubbed his thumb against the back of yours and stared in your y/e/c eyes, a slight sadness hiding behind his amber ones.

"This would be one of the moments where I think I'd realize I was in love with you... if I wasn't so afraid that I was about to lose you." Stiles mumbled, breaking the silence that was occupied with the quiet white noise from the reruns of _Friends_ playing in the background.

"One of them? You've had several of those moments?" You asked, unconsciously squeezing his hand as you spoke.

Stiles smiled, brought his right hand up to replace the hand holding yours, and began to caress your forearm with the tips of his fingers on his left hand. "Well, I told you about the first time when we were nine."

"Jackson and the swings?"

Stiles chuckled quietly. "He was the worst."

You raised your eyebrows slightly. "Seems like he kind of grew out of that with Ethan though." Stiles rolled his eyes gently and your mouth twitched up in the corner. "What was the next time?"

Stiles smiled because you were actually talking to him. He was actively trying to memorize what your voice sounded like, just in case. He continued nonetheless. "When I was ten, and Mom died, and you came over every day after school, and every weekend, for like three months. _Every day_." Stiles emphasized, while smiling a bit bigger. "We played _Star Wars_ and _Jumanji_ and catch and you also just sat downstairs and read books when I wasn't up to hanging out and I would just sit in my room and cry. You were there every second of it. You were the only thing that made me happy in those months after."

Stiles pulled your hand up to his lips and left a soft kiss against your knuckles. You didn't recoil or yell or look sad for any reason other than the fact that Stiles had had a difficult life, just like you. You shot him a melancholy smile, and he returned your hands to the warm spot on the mattress in the middle of the two of you, then continued. "When I was seventeen..." Stiles paused.

"Donovan?" You whispered across the white, crinkled sheets.

Stiles nodded. "You were the only one I told for weeks. You were the only one I could even think to tell when it happened. You were so calm once you realized the blood mostly wasn't mine." Stiles' mouth turned up into a devilish grin and he snickered. "Some might say _too_ calm, concerningly so..."

"Shh." You scolded him lightheartedly.

He smiled more genuinely and continued listing off the times he fell in love with you. "You wiped all of the blood off of me. I still remember all of the towels on the floor of the bathroom in your basement, so we wouldn't wake your mom up. You patched up the bite and put bandaids on all of the scratches and you were so calm; it was comforting."

"I just remember staying up all night with the baseball bat, from Roscoe's trunk, next to my bed, staring at the door, waiting for him to come back, while you slept." You stared down at the round scar on his shoulder as you recalled that night.

"I remember waking up and you were just upright in your bed, stroking my hair, staring at the door, barely blinking, and the sun coming through your curtains and hitting your face and just thinking, ' _Shit, I am so in love with her. She's incredible_.'"

"I didn't sleep at all that night."

"I know." Stiles smiled at you, and squeezed your hand. He sighed, happily, forgetting his circumstances as he reminisced with you. "When else..? Oh, like, the week before your twenty-first birthday and finals Junior year, you presented that paper at the Phi Alpha Theta history conference?" You nodded, remembering the academic event. "I remember sitting in the library with you for months before and you just reading millions of books and writing that paper, it was like, what, thirty-two pages?"

"Thirty-four. It was my senior thesis." You reminded him.

"I remember watching you present the paper and read it at the conference, and just being stunned over how amazing it was and how smart and passionate you were about the topic. I remember watching you and just feeling my chest tighten and being, like, ' _Shit, I am in love with her_.'"

You smiled. "A reoccurring theme." You joked quietly.

Stiles snickered and scooted his body barely a half inch forward. "When we were twenty-three, and I finally got the FBI field agent position that I wanted, back in California, and I realized that I would have to leave you in D.C., and I almost turned down the offer to stay because I didn't want to live on the other side of the country away from you. But then I told you about it and you were so proud of me and without missing a beat, looked at me and said, ' _I'm not staying here if you aren't here. My mom is going to be so happy we're moving home_.' and I just looked at you, like-"

" _Fuck, I'm in love with her_?" You cut him off, and Stiles laughed, unconsciously extending his foot out to touch yours. You allowed it, and he hooked his ankle around your ankle.

"Yea, exactly." He laughed, and you smiled demurely. "Then two weeks ago, in the hallway between the private room and the restaurant at Louie's, when I pinned you up against a wall and kissed you for the first time in thirteen years, and-"

"When you said, ' _Wow_.'?" You remembered.

Stiles nodded against the wrinkled fitted sheet. "Yea. It was all really downhill from there for me... Well, from there and from the taxi ride home from the wedding." You quirked your eyebrow up, and he pulled your hand a little tighter against his body. "You were falling asleep in my lap, and my suit jacket was just swallowing your body up and you looked so cute and so beautiful and so perfect, and the street lamps kept illuminating your face and you were just... angelic. _That was it_. That moment ruined me for anyone else ever. You had me right then and you didn't even know it. I have just been living for you every second of every day since. Just stupidly in love." He smiled bashfully, looking down at your entwined fingers.

Your face got a little more serious, and you spoke in a tone that made Stiles' smile fade. "You have been telling me you love me over and over for days now, and you have never waited to see if I love you back."

Stiles pursed his lips but spoke with an underlying confidence; almost an air of authority. "I know you do. I know it." The most subtle smile began to take over Stiles' face; you could mostly see it in his eyes, but it was there. "You wouldn't have taken the second call the other day. You didn't know I was having a panic attack. You also wouldn't have helped me through that episode if you didn't love me." Stiles began to run down a different list of reasons. "You would've sent me out of this room hours ago if you didn't love me." Stiles shrugged, and pulled your hand up to his mouth again, simply whispering the words against the soft skin on the back of your hand. "You wouldn't be laying here right now if you weren't in love with me, Giz."

You looked pained over his words. You knew he was right, you just didn't know he realized it too.

"I know I fucked up." The fingers on his left hand made their way up to your cheek, and wiped away a tear that began falling down the bridge of your nose. "I know I did. I'm going to keep fucking up too." You glanced up at him in fear of the words that had just come out of his mouth. "I'm human, Y/n. We fuck up. You're gonna fuck up too sometimes..." He smiled. "Much less than me because you are a better person than I am, but it'll happen _sometimes_. But I can make you a promise that I will never break: I will never fuck up in that way again."

Your body hitched as you let a staggered breath out of your mouth, and Stiles inched forward slightly again, wiping another few tears from your face. "I am yours, Y/n. Fully. Whether you want me or not. I can't go back. I can't undo it. My heart is completely in your hands."

" _Sti_.." You said his nickname and his heart skipped a beat. He cut you off before you could say anything else.

"No, just, listen... I can never get this close to losing you ever again. I can't love anyone else because I know what it feels like to be loved by you and to feel that warmth, and _fuck_ , Gizmo, the sun even pales in comparison to that feeling." He paused, his forehead full of wrinkles and his eyes locked on yours. "I know you love me."

You nuzzled your cheek against his hand, a grimace painted across your face. You finally nodded, and Stiles went to speak again, but you held your finger up in his face in warning, stern and straight. "This doesn't mean that I am going to immediately trust you again. You fucked up so badly, and it's going to take time to rebuild that trust...." You paused, staring at Stiles' hopeful amber eyes. "But, love, real love," You placed your hand against his stubble, and he looked like he was about to cry. "it's all about forgiveness and hard work, and I'm willing to work."

Stiles cupped his hands over your cheeks, feeling the damp spot where your tears ended up on the mattress below his right hand, and he stared at you straight in your y/e/c eyes. "You do love me."

You shrugged and shook your head. "Of course, I love you."

Stiles propelled his body across the bed and crashed his lips against yours, a flash flood of emotion overtaking the both of you. His tongue entered your mouth with ease and searched for signs of restraint from you, but found none. The two of you kissed until breathing through your noses just wasn't bringing enough oxygen to your lungs anymore.

Stiles ran his thumb over your cheekbone, smiling softly and staring at the red marks on your chin from his stubble scratching you. He pulled a hair back from over your face, and stared into your y/e/c eyes; they were still bloodshot and tired. He pressed his hand against the side of your face a bit firmer, and exhaled. "You're still exhausted, aren't you?" You nodded, and Stiles frowned. "Alright. Let's sleep then." He paused, looking back at the clock on his side of the bed. "Should I set an alarm for the courthouse tomorrow?"

You waited for a moment, trying to figure out what you felt in your heart, but you knew the answer from the beginning. "No." You answered simply.

Stiles felt cautiously hopeful because of your reply, and he smiled. "Okay, Gizmo. Come here." He pulled you close, letting you rest your head against his bicep, and held you against him, tucking the covers around your bodies as he felt you nuzzle your nose against his chest. He was comfortable and relieved, and before his brain could process it, he began to drift off to sleep.

* * *

 

Stiles woke around seven in the morning when he felt his arm tingle with pins and needles. He didn't want to wake you, but he could no longer feel his fingers. So, he tried to gently move his arm out from under your neck, but woke you regardless. You moaned, and moved your head from his bicep to his chest, nuzzling your cheek and lips against his bare skin. Stiles wrapped his arms around your warm body, clenching and unclenching his fist, trying to get the blood flowing through his extremities again.

You yawned, then spoke. "I'm gonna call out sick from work tomorrow."

"Why?" Stiles smelled his morning breath and cringed, quickly tilted his head up in the hopes that you would not catch a whiff. "You want to go to see a judge, don't you?" Forever the pessimist.

You shook your head against his chest, watching your fingers work through his thick and curly chest hair. "I don't want to go back to Beacon Hills until we've figured this out between us."

Stiles audibly exhaled, a staggered breath of relief. " _Fuck_."

"What?" You glanced up at him.

Stiles pressed his lips against your forehead, then shimmied out from under you. "Can I use your toothbrush?"

"Gross, but sure." You shrugged, watching the tall, almost naked man who you were completely in love with walk towards the bathroom. "Why'd you say ' _fuck_ '?"

Stiles leaned against the wall, around the corner of the bed and the bathroom, your toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth. "I thought you woke up and changed your mind, and when you didn't.." Stiles ran his hand across his stomach, gripping at the skin on his side, and shaking his head. "I was just relieved." You smiled softly and Stiles went to go spit in the sink. You heard him run the water, then watched him come back into the room. "Did you bring your laptop?"

"My backpack." You pointed across the room. Stiles grabbed your computer, then dug out a flashdrive from the pocket of his pants. He placed both on the nightstand and then crawled back in bed with you.

He pressed his lips against yours, his hand working its way from your chin, up your jawline, and into your hair, as his minty saliva made your lips tingle. "I love you so much." He whispered once he pulled away, and you buried your head in the crook of his chest. Every kiss had your head spinning; there was still so much to talk about but you were kissing Stiles Stilinski and that made it hard to even think about breathing, let alone anything else. He tilted his head to the side to look at your face. "I'll call out from work too. I never take my sick days, they won't care." You nodded, and glanced up at him. "I'll call downstairs as well and try to get one of our rooms for tonight and we can leave tomorrow afternoon. Does that work?"

"Yea, that works." You replied, watching him reach over to pick up the phone to call the front desk first. Stiles sorted everything and secured the both of you an extra day in Vegas to try to work things out. You shot off an email to Principal Martin, calling out of school and sending your classes work for Tuesday, then handed your open computer back over to Stiles. "Why'd you want my laptop?"

Stiles smiled, and reached over to the nightstand to grab his flashdrive. "I may have pulled the FBI card _pretty hard_ the past twenty-four hours."

You slunk down next to him, pulling the covers up under your chin and sticking your feet near his leg to warm your toes, as Stiles placed your MacBook on his lap and stuck his flashdrive in the USB port. "What do you mean?"

Stiles ran his fingers through his bedhead and looked down at you, snuggled under the blankets, trying to stay warm and looking adorable. He loved you. "On Saturday, I went down to the bar, to get a drink, where we had cocktails at the bachelor party." You nodded. "And by some twist of fate, the waitress was the same as the one we had that day. She remembered us, and had, evidently, eavesdropped on pretty much our entire conversation."

"I'm sorry,  _what_?" You looked embarrassed and annoyed by her intrusion.

Stiles smiled at your irritation. "No, Giz, it's good. She filled in a lot of gaps and then I got the surveillance footage that we happen to be in, of the lounge, from that night."

"You have footage of us?" You did not expect this at all.

Stiles grinned and nodded. "From the lounge, from the club, and from the chapel."

" _No. Fucking. Way_." You sat up straight, not caring if you were a little cold. You were stunned and entirely too curious. "Let me see." You reached over to the trackpad to open the videos, but Stiles stopped you.

"Wait, _wait_ , I wanna tell you what the waitress said." He grabbed your hand, stopping you from reaching the computer. You rolled your eyes and he grinned. Things were starting to feel normal and it made Stiles feel better. "Um, so you know how you kept wondering if I had ever said ' _You are the best girl in the world, Giz_.'?" You nodded. "I did say it. You were remembering things from that night. I was too."

"What were you remembering?"

"The conversation we had at the nightclub. That dream I told you about at the wedding, it wasn't a dream, it was a memory."

"What were these conversations?" You asked, frustrated with how long he was taking to get to the point. Stiles woke the screen of the computer up and opened the first video file. He began to play the clip that lacked audio, and filled in what the waitress had told him. "We look pretty cozy." You commented, pointing at how close you and Stiles were sitting and the fact that you were holding hands. "I said that about us being the ones to get married? Really?" Stiles smiled and nodded. "Boy, am I bold when I want to be." You chuckled.

"Well, if it wasn't for your boldness, our drunk asses wouldn't have done this at the club later." Stiles double clicked on the second clip and suddenly a fuzzy black and white security video began playing on the screen.

"Where are we?" You asked, looking at the sea of people dancing as strobe lights illuminated faces in spurts.

" _Riiiight_ here." Stiles pointed to the left side of the video.

" _Oh. My. God_." You brought your hands up to cover your mouth and watched in surprised horror as you and Stiles gyrated against each other, and sloppily made out on the dance floor. "Oh my god." You brought your fingers up to rub your eye and you winced, only watching the screen through a half shut eye lid. "That was my boob, wasn't it?"

Stiles burst out laughing. " _Yep_. Yes, it was. I covered it though."

"So chivalrous... Oh for the love of.. make it stop." You buried your face into his shoulder, unable to watch the video any longer. You felt his arm wrap around your back, between you and the pillows, and you decided to snuggle closer. "How long did this go on for?"

"We went back and forth between dancing and drinking until about midnight, so for like two hours, and then you pulled me off to the side, and that's what I remember from my dream-memory thing." Stiles explained, finally shutting the video off.

"And what was said then? You never told me at the wedding." You glanced up at him.

"Well," Stiles tilted his head to the side and smirked. "basically, I pulled you into a hallway, we made out a little more, and you were, like, ' _I love you Stiles, let's go upstairs, I want you_.'"

"No.." You argued in disbelief.

Stiles' smirk grew wider, as he nodded. "Oh, Gizmo, you wanted me bad."

"So, we did have sex that night?" You cringed.

Stiles shook his head and connected his eyes with yours. "No. I told you ' _no_ '. I said that I didn't want to do that unless I was with you one hundred percent because I loved you, which is when you said, ' _So, why don't you just marry me?_ ' and my idiot ass, madly in love with you, said ' _yes_.'"

"Are you sure you didn't dream that? I proposed to you?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Stiles clicked on the third of five video files and the security footage from the hallway by the bathrooms popped up on the screen. You watched as the two of you kissed passionately and rubbed up against each other. You then whispered up into Stiles' ear, then tried to lead him away down the hall, but he pulled you back against him, unmoving. You watched a conversation take place which changed the body language on the both of you completely. You watched Stiles nod emphatically and then kiss you like there was no tomorrow. The way Stiles portrayed the conversation seemed to line up with what you saw on the screen.

He opened the fourth video file and you watched, this time with audio, as the two of you stumbled into the twenty-four hour wedding chapel on the Las Vegas Strip, and began filling out your wedding license and picking your rings. "At least you paid for the rings." You mumbled, watching the two of you grinning at each other on the surveillance footage. “God knows I can’t pay for th-”

“ _Thank you, I couldn’t pay for these on a teacher’s salary_.” You said on the video.

You raised your hands up in the air and stared at Stiles, then began laughing at how your words matched up on the screen and in the present. “I take the words out of my own mouth.” Stiles smirked and laughed.

He closed the fourth video and opened the final one. You and Stiles sat in a wooden pew, waiting for a different drunken pair to tie the knot before you. You watched as Stiles left soft kisses on your shoulder and cheek and the back of your hand, and you gazed up at him adoringly. You began to wonder if you knew what you were doing all along that night; if you weren't just listening to your inner desires and urges and Stiles was doing the same.

" _Y/f/n and... uh, Priscilla, how do you say this?_ " The Elvis impersonator said over the audio, calling you and Stiles up to be married finally.

" _Mieczysław Stilinski_." You corrected your Elvis priest, as you stood.

" _Well, alrighty, you pretty little thing. No wonder this man is marrying you, uh huh uh huh uh huh, legs that go on for days!_ " Elvis crooned. The camera caught you grimace up at Stiles over Elvis' misogyny, and Stiles shaking his head at the impersonator.

The two of you cracked up at the exchange caught on video and he tugged you tighter against him, knowing what was about to come. "It get's better, I promise." Stiles whispered in your ear, and you reached your arm around his torso, hugging him back. He rested his chin on the top of your head and listened as you began your vows on the video.

" _I have loved you since I was six years old and I first met you. I have loved you since I was ten and I sat in your room and saw you cry for the first time. I have loved you since I was thirteen and you were my first kiss. I have loved you since I was sixteen and you were the first one who came over after my dad died. I loved you when I was twenty-two and heard your voice above all others cheering me on as I got my diploma. I have loved you, Stiles Stilinski, every day of my life, since the moment I met you. I cannot wait to love you every day for the rest of my life. You are my best friend and my number one supporter and I promise that will never change. Now give me the ring, I want to be your wife_."

A tear rolled down your cheek and landed on Stiles' chest, and he tapped the space bar, pausing the video. "Are you okay?" He asked, tilting his head down, and wiping the wet trail off your cheek.

You nodded, blinking softly at him, trying to keep from crying more. Everything you had just said, even in the drunken state you were in at the time, was completely true, and you were overwhelmed by what you were seeing. "Mhmm." You simply hummed, before placing your head back against Stiles' chest and pressing play on the video again.

" _I can't imagine anything better in the world than marrying your best friend, which is probably why, my entire life, I could only ever imagine marrying one person. You. You, Y/f/n, are the most kind, generous, funny, brilliant, quick and beautiful woman I have ever known, and no one has ever compared to how you make me feel every day. It was only ever you for me. I promise I am going to spend the rest of my life making you roll your eyes, smile, laugh, and feel safe. I promise to never stray from you. I promise to never leave you. I will always fight for you. I will make sure that our kids grow up to love Star Wars and the Mets and respect women._ " Stiles paused in the video, slightly swaying back and forth in his drunken stupor, but positively glowing over your laughter mixed with your happy tears. " _I promise to love you forever, Y/n. My new pact offer is that seventy years from now, I won't leave this earth until you do, and I will still have loved you every second of every day. To ninety-six, deal?_ "

You beamed from ear to ear, launching your body across the distance between the two of you to kiss Stiles. " _Deal, deal, oh god, you have yourself a deal_." You mumbled against his lips before Elvis cleared his throat.

" _Elvis has not left the building yet, and he has not pronounced you husband and wife yet, so if we could just separate and let me finish_." He peeled you off of Stiles and waited for the two of you to step back in place. " _Uh, a-thank you very much... Now, the rings..._ " Elvis said the typical vows, you both said ' _I do_ ' as you slipped your wedding bands on your fingers, and Elvis' wife began to play the organ, as the two of you kissed, sealing your marital bliss.

"And that was it. My guess is we came back here, to the hotel, and passed out. The time stamp is, like, almost five in the morning, so.." Stiles said, staring at the black screen of the finished video.

You also stared for a minute, processing what you had just seen and heard, then you closed the laptop and placed it on the nightstand. You turned back to Stiles, watching your every move, waiting to see what you would do or say next. You crawled on top of him, twisting the sheets with your legs, and laid against his chest. Stiles' breathing became shallow as his hands moved under the blankets to your hips. He glanced down and watched your hands rubbing against his stubble, before his eyes met yours again. He felt the hot breath from your nostrils sweeping across his neck and chest. You leaned in slowly and connected your lips with his.

Stiles felt a surge of energy rush through his whole body and his muscles reacted instinctively. He gripped your hips, as you slipped your tongue in his mouth, and he moved his capable hands up, in search of skin. He dipped them under the back of your shirt, his right hand crossing the small of your back to brace you against him, and his left hand working its way up your spine to push against the dip between your shoulder blades.

He moaned as he felt your body ebbing and flowing with his, your hips gyrating against his. You were rubbing your pelvis up and down on the only part of his body covered by fabric, and Stiles wanted more. He massaged your tongue with his and searched the crevices of your mouth. He felt the hot, bare skin of your stomach rub against his stomach, as your shirt pulled up with your movements, and he gripped you harder against him.

"Stiles.." You broke the tension-filled kiss, and he laid against the pillows, still holding you, panting. " _Make love to me_."

Stiles felt his chest tighten and his cock twitch at your words, and he sprung into action. He flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you on the bed. He hooked his fingers up at the hem of your t-shirt and pulled up, watching your y/h/c hair splay out on the white fitted sheet below you as the neck of the shirt pulled over your head. Then Stiles paused. He stared at your arms gently resting above your head, and his eyes followed down to your chest. He had never seen you in anything less than a bathing suit. He had imagined it millions of times, but the real thing was suddenly in front of him, and you took his breath away.

Stiles steadied his breathing and slowed his actions. There was no reason to rush any of this. He watched your eyes, as his hands moved down to the fabric hugging your hips. He hooked his fingers over the elastic and pulled down, watching your knees pull up to your chest as he pulled your shorts and underwear over your feet. You suddenly became self conscious. You were completely naked in front of your best friend of twenty years, a man you had dreamt about and lusted over and loved for more of your life then not. The pressure became extraordinary.

You covered your breasts and stomach with your arms as nonchalantly as possible, until you saw Stiles glance down at his lone piece of clothing. He hooked his own thumbs around the elastic on his gray boxer briefs and pulled down, lifting his knees off the mattress to get the fabric off of his legs. He grabbed all of yours and his clothing and tossed the pile on the floor.

Your eyes widened at the sheer length and width of him and you couldn't help yourself; the words involuntarily stumbling out of your mouth. "Holy fuck."

Stiles eyes widened at your curse, and he glanced down at his erection, bringing his hand down to wrap around his member, nervously. He glanced back at you, your lips rolled back into your mouth, and your eyes still fixated on his cock. "Um, good?" He mumbled, unsure of the meaning behind what you said. You simply brought your eyes up to his and nodded. Stiles finally smiled. "Thank god." He laughed and some of the awkward tension was relieved. "My heart is racing right now." He brought his free hand up to his chest, and you watched a subtle blush rise to his cheeks.

You smiled softly, and moved your hand over your left breast and rested it on the valley of your chest. "Mine too." You replied, licking your lips as you watched his eyes examining you.

"Can I touch you?" Stiles asked, his eyes darting at all of your exposed skin, unable to find one specific place to fixate on.

You bit down on your bottom lip, scraping pieces of skin off, and nodded. Stiles found your right hand, laying against the mattress next to your body and he interlaced the fingers on his left hand with it, bringing it up to rest on his hairy thigh. He remained kneeling in front of you, the blankets haphazardly covering his feet, and he reached his large hand down to your cheek. You felt a shiver roll across your body at his touch, as you gulped and closed your eyes. He hesitated on your cheek, and you opened your eyes again because of his lingering touch. He sent you a relieved smile in reaction to seeing your beautiful y/e/c orbs staring back at him. He leaned down and kissed your lips; nothing intense or over the top, just wanting to feel your pillowy mouth against his.

Stiles broke the kiss and straightened back up, suddenly resting his body weight back, sitting against the heels of his feet. His hand dragged down from your cheek to your neck, and he pulled away some loose strands of hair. As soon as his hand moved south, to caress your collarbone, and his gaze broke from yours, you, too, began to watch his movements.

He was soft and gentle and sweet, as he moved his fingers down your chest to rest in between your breasts. You felt his fingernails softly dig into your skin and you stopped breathing. His fingers worked their way to the side and simply felt the plush skin covering your right breast for the first time. Your nerves reacted by giving you goosebumps and you continued holding your breath.

"You have to breathe, Gizmo." He whispered, watching your face turn red from your lack of oxygen. You inhaled, but shook your head, a small smile resting on your lips. Stiles laughed quietly and leaned down to gently press his lips against yours. "You okay?" He whispered, leaving his forehead connected to yours, and feeling your eyelashes lightly sweep across his brow bone.

"I'm.. Yea, I'm okay. Are you?"

Stiles chuckled. "I'm freaking out right now."

You finally laughed too, and he felt a little more free. "Same."

He sat back up, resting back against the heels of his feet once more, and ran his free hand through his shaggy, chocolate brown hair. "I feel like I’ve spent the better half of age twelve to, I don't know, three weeks ago, thinking about what you'd look like naked-"

"And jerking it?" You grinned, snickering quietly.

An uncontrollable grin spread across Stiles' face. "Well, yea, duh.... But this..." His eyes darted across your body once more. "This is so much more perfect than I ever imagined. You are...." Stiles shook his head; the words were not coming. He wanted to sit in front of a thesaurus and read off the synonyms for _'beautiful'_ in an effort to describe your body, but then one word came to mind. "You're ineffable. They haven't made the word yet to describe how stunning every inch of you is."

"Stiles..." You smiled, a red blush rising to your cheeks.

Stiles continued shaking his head. "I mean it, Y/n. I could just sit here and touch you and kiss you forever."

"Then go back to touching me." You prompted him, watching the corner of his mouth twitch up. You squeezed his hand in yours quickly, and watched as his free right hand attached itself to your side. He slid his fingers up and ran them over your left breast, swiping his thumb over your hard nipple. You exhaled deeply, your face and body relaxing at his touch now. He squeezed gently, filling his fist with your pillowy bosom, and your eyes rolled back into your head. Your body squirmed against the wrinkled sheets at every new inch of skin that his hands traced over. He worked his way down your stomach, stroking his fingers across the subtle stretch marks on your hips. He smiled when his fingers crossed a light patch of hair on your upper thigh that you had missed with your razor. You watched him, a soft smirk on your lips, as he worked his way down to your legs and feet, staring at you like every inch of you was brand new to him.

"Can..." Stiles couldn't help but smirk when he caught your gaze. "Can you turn over?" He asked, grinning. You simply snickered, but did as he requested.

You flipped onto your stomach, your arms digging under the pillow to prop your head up. You didn't try to watch him this time, you simply closed your eyes and sighed heavily as you felt his fingertips pushing the hair off the back of your neck. The knuckles on the back of his fingers slid down your spine softly and you felt goosebumps raise where he had just touched. He flattened both of his hands and pressed his palms against your ass, grabbing fistfuls and swallowing loud enough that you could hear it. It made you grin. His fingers traced down your thighs, stopping only once to rub his thumb over the scar on the back of your quadricep from when that girl slide tackled you during a game, and her soccer cleat cut your leg. He softly rubbed your feet for only a minute, before you felt his weight shift in the mattress between you.

You felt his warm skin make contact with your cool skin and his lips connect with the back of your neck. You couldn't help but moan rather loudly. No one had ever kissed you there before and it was more sensitive than you would've expected. Stiles snickered against your skin and you wiggled underneath him. It didn't help that as he moved, you felt the head of his fully erect cock drag against your thighs. You were barely keeping it together. You felt an intense throbbing grow between your legs as his lips left soft kisses down your spine. He wet his lips and left gentle bites on your cheeks and upper thighs, and you suddenly held your breath, waiting for what was surely about to come.

"Turn back over." He whispered in your ear suddenly, and you scoffed quietly. He was teasing you.

You did as you were told, and your eyes connected with his, darkened with lust and desire. He hovered over you, smiling, watching as you spread your hair out on the pillow behind you. He ran his fingers up your left arm, staring at the freckles and moles scattered across your skin, then fit his fingers in between yours, above your head. He did the same with your right arm, and pressed your hands against the pillow, as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, then you neck.

"I love every inch of you." He paused, looking seriously into your eyes, before continuing on his journey down your body.

"I know." You whispered back, a small smile on your lips.

As Stiles went back to nibbling on your collarbones and working his tongue down to your breasts. You couldn't help but get lost in your thoughts for a brief moment. There were no more secrets or hidden feelings between you and Stiles. No more obsession or unrequited love. He was your one and only and you were his. The moments to come began to feel less like just your first time together, and more like the joining of your hearts, or the beginning of something much bigger than just the two of you. Your heart ached for him and your hands dropped softly into his thick, brown hair. He glanced up at your touch and smiled, before returning to his task of kissing his way down your stomach.

He worked his way down your right leg and back up your left. He felt the blood in his body fighting between being sent to his cock and his head. His breathing staggered, as his fingers gently grazed your pelvic bone. You were squishy and soft and well maintained and he couldn't stop himself anymore. He ran his fingers along the outside of your lips and you wriggled at his intimate touch. He dragged his pointer and middle fingers up the inside of your lips; wet hot and slippery against his skin. You tried to stay still; covering your eyes with the backs of your hands.

"Can I?" You heard him ask, not knowing what he was referring to, and you simply nodded.

Suddenly, you felt a finger slip inside of you and you exhaled loudly. Your body shuddered at the touch, and your hand instinctively grasped at the pillow next to your head. Then you felt his lips, his perfect, soft, plump pink lips with the prickly, stubbly hairs above and below, gently kiss and quickly suck on your clit. You shot your head up to watch him once you felt his mouth move against your body.

"Oh my god." You tilted your head at him, unsure as to why he finally spoke, nerves, both good and bad, filling your head. Suddenly, he laughed softly to himself. "You're sweet." He laughed again and finally made eye contact with you, scrunching his face as he smiled and licked his lips, his finger stalling inside of you for a moment. "I thought.. that was only something they said in like, bad porn, but you are actually sweet. Oh my god." His voice got deeper as he finished his thought, and he quickly reattached his lips, wanting to taste more.

"Oh my god." You moaned, watching his eyes flutter shut and his nose push through your folds, as you collapsed back against the pillows.

You whimpered, loudly, as he stuck a second finger inside of you, slowly pumping in and out of your pussy, and his glorious mouth sucked against your bundle of nerves. You were on the precipice quickly. He nudged his cheeks and chin against your thighs as he enthusiastically sucked and licked and bit at your clit. Like the rumbling before an earthquake, your body sent out a shake, a sign of what was to come if he continued. Stiles felt you involuntarily push against him. He paused to smirk, then let out a hot exhale from his mouth, not meaning to tease you, but eliciting a reaction that he enjoyed nonetheless.

He left smaller, less pressurized kisses against your clit as he made up his mind. This was your first time together, and he really wanted to experience it with you. He started trailing his kisses against the inside of your thighs, and you took deep breaths in, trying to calm your almost-climax. Stiles dragged his hand against his mouth and chin, trying to get your juices off of his face, and then shrugged as he wiped it on the blankets next to him. You snickered quietly and shook your head, gently rolling your eyes out of habit.

Stiles smirked hard and fast. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you just roll your eyes at me?”

You widened your eyes, staring at him kneeling straight up in front of you, and mirrored his smirk. “Maybe.”

His smirk faded into a more genuinely happy smile, as he stared down at you, one hand above your head, the other massaging small circles into your knee. “I love you, Y/n.” He couldn’t help himself. Everything about this moment, this act, this new chapter in your story together was flipping him more head over heels for you.

You pursed your lips together and wagged your hand in a come hither motion. Stiles leaned down, a perfectly blissed out expression still resting on his face, and he leaned forward to hover over you. You pressed your hands, the tips of your cold fingers finding warmth on his skin, against his face and you leaned your lips up to connect with his. “I love you.” You said firmly, like you wanted to make sure that this wasn’t you getting caught up in the moment.

He closed his eyes, sighed against your skin, and buried his lips against your neck. Your hands wound around his neck, and kept him in place as you whispered how you wanted him. Stiles wet his lips, the nerves reading clearly on his face, as he focused intently on lining himself up with your entrance. Your left foot ran up and down against his calf absentmindedly, as you waited for him to do the thing you had dreamt about for years. He glanced back up at you and caught a subtle smile on your face, hiding mostly behind your y/e/c eyes, and he knew this was right.

He leaned down, connecting his lips with yours and slipped inside. You exhaled loudly into his mouth, pressing your forehead against his firmly as he pulled out and pushed back in a little further. He continued this, as your fingernails dug into his warm flesh. He finally bottomed out, and you gasped.

“Oh god..” You whispered, breathily.

Stiles’ head shot up to look at you. “You okay?”

Your brain had shut off, short of a handful of words. The first that left your lips came in the form of a demand. “More.”

You pulled him in, all but shoving your tongue down his throat, sharing dominance in each other’s mouths. Your legs clung to his waist like they were superglued to him. You pawed at him, your fingers on their own personal search for more skin, grabbing at his muscular back and sides, as he left long, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders; kisses that you knew would result in bruises. You’d worry about what wearing a turtleneck during your early June classes would look like later.

“Harder…. Please.” Your brain and mouth begged, and Stiles complied. He pressed his forehead against the pillow, next to your head, and breathed heavily against your shoulder as he increased his pace. He listened to your breathy moans happily and indulged in the feeling of your lips on his neck. It wasn’t enough for you though. “Deeper.” You begged.

Stiles perked up and snickered. “Okay, we have to change this up cause clearly this is not working for you.” He paused his movements, leaned down and softly peppered your lips with kisses. He whispered against your mouth. “Turn over.”

You followed his direction and turned onto your stomach. You waited for him to slip back inside of you, craving the feeling of being complete with him, but he didn’t, not immediately, at least. He dragged his pointed tongue from the base of your spine up to between your shoulder blades, blowing cool air over the wet trail as he went. He went back over where his tongue had just been with warm, sucking kisses, touching your body in ways that no one else had ever bothered to before. It was heavenly torture.

You couldn't help but whine. You needed more of him. “Stiles……” You moaned, feeling the slippery surface of his teeth against your skin. “Stop grinning and quit teasing me.” You muttered, grumpily.

He slid his lips up to your neck and jaw and ear, kissing you in between quiet words. “Do you not like it when I kiss your back?” You whined quietly in response to his tugging on your earlobe. Stiles couldn't help it when the arrogance came through in his tone. “You seemed to like it before..”

You glanced behind you, playfully glaring at him. “I love it. I’d love it even more though if you did it when you were inside of me.” You watched him run his tongue against his top left canine, as he grinned.

He huffed and shook his head. “I can't fucking deny you. Fuck.” He inhaled sharply as you ground your ass against his still hard cock, flipping the switch on his animalistic side, and he quickly gripped his hand against your side and forced you flush against the bed. You snickered and then moaned loudly as he shoved himself back inside of you abruptly.

Stiles thrust in and out of you, moving with the flow of your body, and pressing his sweaty forehead between your shoulderblades, simply closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of being with you. You moaned for him to go deeper again, egging Stiles to push himself as far inside of of you as he could. “You're insatiable, Giz.” He whispered, before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

You turned your head around to smile at him, a feeling of genuine love and happiness towards him filling your chest as you caught him smiling back down at you. “I just want more of you…. I want all of you.” You whispered back, causing a larger smile to break out on his face.

Stiles closed the distance between your lips and his, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, his cock slowly pushed deeper inside of your pussy. You tugged at strands of his messy hair and tugged at his lip with your teeth. You had had enough of laying back and letting him do all of the work. You lazily rose to your hands and knees, feeling his large and sinewy hands hold your hips firmly, and pushed back against him every time he thrust into you. Stiles let out a small huff every time his hips met your plump ass and he truly bottomed out in you. This was a whole new depth and it was nothing short of euphoric.

Your back arched down towards the bed, causing your ass to stick out even more, and it drove Stiles wild. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He managed to get out between pants. “Are you close?”

“Mhm.” You replied quietly, willing to lie about your orgasm on your first time. You figured you’d teach him later.

Stiles knew when you were lying though, and he was determined. “Come here.” He whispered, gripping your shoulder with his right hand, while wrapping his left hand around your stomach, pulling you up, your back flush against his chest.

He ceased his movements inside of you, giving himself a few moments to calm down, and swept your hair off of your back and neck, tucking it over your right shoulder. Stiles placed soft, hot kisses against your shoulder, glancing up at your closed eyes and relaxed expression. This is where he wanted to live for the rest of his life, in this moment where you were happy and relaxed and being loved on. He moved his left hand up over your chest, his fingers hooking over the upper part of your right collarbone, pulling you that much tighter against him. You grabbed his right hand off of your shoulder, interlaced your fingers with it, and rested it against your left hip. You sighed heavily, your head dropping back to rest on his shoulder, as he began gently, barely thrusting in and out of you again.

“Keep telling me what you need and I’ll do it. I just want to finish with you.” Stiles spoke quietly, in your ear, turning to pepper your cheek with sweet kisses.

“Harder.” You exhaled, turning to connect your lips with his. You sloppily and gently kissed until Stiles pushed his fingers into your collarbone, holding you in place, and suddenly thrust up hard, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

You threw your head forward and yelled. “OHH… my fuck… my fuck.. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stiles stopped abruptly at your commotion. “Did I hurt you?!”

You picked your head up, and turned to shoot him a look. “I don’t know what the fuck you just did, but do it again. Never stop doing that. Do that until I pass out. Holy shit.”

Stiles was fueled by your reaction and began forcefully thrusting up into you the same way he had before. You yelped and moaned and yelled with each hit. Your skin grew slippery with hot sweat from your bodies rubbing against one another and your hands switched from grabbing at tufts of his hair, to grabbing at his muscular biceps or his veiny forearms. You could feel the beginning waves rolling in.

“Tell me you’re close. I’m close.” You demanded.

Stiles sighed in relief. “Thank god. I’ve been struggling to hold it off.”

You grinned, and purposefully clenched around him, eliciting a loud moan from his throat, and egging him on to pick up his speed and depth. As the thrusts increased, your vision blurred, you simply closed your eyes and clutched onto his arm, then unraveled. Stiles held you as your body shook and twitched and rolled through its climax.

He unraveled as well, his hot breath on your neck matching the heat from his cum filling your insides. As you stayed in your position, you panting heavily, your shaky hand rubbing back and forth against his sweaty forearm, and your bony fingers digging into his, Stiles could think of only one thing: he was simply the happiest man who had ever lived. He closed his eyes, nuzzled his nose into your sticky skin and felt his heart jump when he heard your voice fill the silence in the room.

“I have wasted, at the very least, the last five to ten years not doing that with you, and that is bullshit.”

Stiles laughed, softly kissing your hair. “I’ve never done anything like that before… That.. was a whole other thing. That was something else entirely. It’s never felt that amazing before.”

Your heart felt full at his words, and you knew what he meant because you felt the same. “Yea, that was like nothing else I’ve ever done with anyone before… I feel like my body is going to give out.” You laughed, clutching his hands a little tighter.

You heard Stiles snicker. “Okay, Giz, gently now…” Stiles said, as he lowered you down to the bed, slowly pulling out of you while he left as many kisses as possible on your back and shoulders.

You let Stiles slip out of you to grab tissues and you laid on your stomach on the bed. You closed your eyes and tucked your arms under the closest pillow, resting your head on top. You felt Stiles wipe the dripping cum from between your legs, snuggle up next to you, and pull the covers over your naked bodies. You hummed quietly, a content look on your face, as Stiles rubbed his hand up and down your back under the blankets.

"You seem happy." Stiles whispered, a tinge of surprise in his voice making it almost sound like a question.

"I'm in love with you." You answered, feeling Stiles' hand stall on the middle of your back.

You kept your eyes closed but felt Stiles' forehead press against yours, his flat, sweaty bedhead sticking to your skin. "That's the greatest thing I have ever heard you say." He affirmed, and you smiled, finally opening your eyes, leaning forward, and pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

You remained in your position, and Stiles' hand began its comfortable motion up and down your spine again. You stared into his happy whiskey colored eyes and you sighed. No more holding back, you decided, if you were going to go all in, and you wouldn't want to do this any other way with him, now was the time to start.

"Stiles?" He perked his brows up, waiting for you to speak again. "This is it. I'm yours now. There's no turning back at this point, I'm all in, but Stiles, you can't hurt me like that again." You warned, gulping after letting those heavy words out of your throat.

"Come here." Stiles motioned for you to face him completely, and you complied, turning on your side and feeling his hand pull at your hip, connecting your pelvises. He felt comforted when all ten of your delicate fingers pressed up against his chest, and he sorted out what he wanted to say.

"Try not to jump at me, and just let me get this out, okay?" You pursed your lips, about to roll your eyes at him, but nodded instead. "I can't make that promise to you, Giz. I'm going to hurt you. It's a fact of life. I don't want to lie and say that I won't, because then when I do, it'll be like breaking a promise, and those, those I want to keep." You tried to keep from openly frowning, because you knew he was right, but you certainly did not look happy or peaceful anymore. You appreciated Stiles' realism, however, and listened intently as he continued. "We're going to fight and disagree and hurt each other," Stiles shrugged, moving the duvet slightly off his shoulder. "that's just how relationships go, and I'm prepared for that. I will promise you this, though." His hand moved up to your cheek before he made his vow. "I will never be unfaithful. I will never hurt you in that way again. I can't lose you, Y/n. I would die... I just physically would not be able to go on without you. You've got me. I will never hurt you like that again."

You stared at his eyes, processing all that he had just professed, trying to decide whether or not you believed him. You spoke slowly. "Okay.."

"Okay?" Stiles couldn't help but continue sounding surprised.

You nodded against his hand. "That was honest, so yea, okay."

"I love you, Y/n."

You smiled softly, sliding your fingers up to gently rest against his throat. "I love you, too."

Stiles gripped his hand around the both of yours, massaging your knuckles when he thought of something. "Hey, did you, uh, did you bring our rings with you?" You nodded, glancing down at your bare left hands. "Where are they?" Stiles asked, climbing out from under the covers with you.

"The safe." You pointed to the closet.

Stiles walked away from the bed, completely naked, and you eyed his muscular back and plump ass. You rolled your lips back and covered your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to smother your grin. "What's the combination, Giz?" Stiles yelled over his shoulder.

"0408."

Stiles punched in the code, grabbed the rings, and trotted back to you, climbing over the foot of the mattress, and laying down over the blankets. You sat up, your knees tucking against your chest, and pulled the sheets up to cover your chest. "You made the code my birthday?" He asked, a smirk resting on his mouth. You simply smiled in reply. "Oh, you were always in love with me."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, quietly snickering, but not able to honestly deny his assertion. "Whatever, Stilinski. What are you doing with the rings?" You nodded down at him.

He crawled a little closer, sitting up and leaning against your blanket covered knees. "Give me your right hand." You offered him your left without thinking. "I said right hand, Giz." Stiles laughed, and you playfully grimaced, then switched hands. He slid the plain, thin, silver wedding band on the ring finger on your right hand, and then did the same with his ring on his right hand. "Be with me, for good, forever. This is it." You nodded and smiled, but he could tell that you were confused as to why he was putting it on your right hand. "But, Giz, don't wear this on your left hand. Not yet. Not until I'm worthy of that honor." You smiled bigger and rubbed your fingers against the smooth metal. "I'll wear mine on my right hand to remind me every day of how close I came to losing you, and how I will never get that close to losing you again." Stiles smiled when your face became more serious over his vow. "I'm gonna keep you in love with me for a while, Gizmo. I promise." You smirked, and he mirrored your expression.

You grabbed at his hands, straightened out your legs under the sheets and his body, and laid back, simultaneously pulling him forward to land on top of you. He smirked as he laid against you, kissing your lips lightly, intertwining his fingers with yours, and pressing your hands against the pillow behind your head. "I'd literally have to divorce you now that we've consummated this bullshit." You teased with a grin.

"Please don't divorce me." Stiles pouted.

"Call me 'Gizmo'." You demanded.

Stiles grinned hard, his cheekbones poking out from under his skin. "Gizmo." He whispered, brushing his lips against yours in a barely there kiss.

"Keep calling me that and reminding me why I put up with you and I won't divorce you... yet." You asserted playfully.

"Gizmo, Gizmo, Gizmo, Gizmo, Gizmo." Stiles repeated it through kisses.


	8. The One With The Epilogue

You enjoyed the warm mid-May breeze blowing across your cheek, and what it meant: summer was coming again. You listened to the rustling of the new leaves above your head, shading you from direct contact with the warming sun, and you sighed happily. You laughed when you suddenly felt a rough and wet tongue wipe across your cheek. You brought your hands up to grab at the shaggy-haired dog, keeping him from drenching your face in spittle, and heard the jingling of keys getting closer. You opened your eyes and saw Cespedes standing right next to your head, panting and happy, then tilted your head back against the blanket underneath you, and saw Stiles jogging. 

"He's so much faster than me, it's pathetic." Stiles jokingly lamented as he collapsed onto the soft blue plaid blanket next to you. "Ay! Get away from that, ya little shit." Stiles yelled, shooing Cespedes away from the half eaten spread of cheeses, cured meats and champagne propped up on the top of a picnic basket. Cespedes went to lay down in the warm sun, away from his mean owner who starved him of the real joy in life: salami. Stiles rolled his eyes at his moody dog. "Sourwolf." He muttered.

"Did you two have fun?" You asked, watching him settle onto his side, his elbow pressing into the grass where the top of the blanket ended, and his hand propping his head up to look at you, laying in a a light blue sundress, with tiny black polka dots scattered across the fabric.

Stiles ran his fingers up and down your right arm and he smiled. "Yea, he uh, he stole a frisbee from a bunch of teenagers and that was a thing for a minute, but he's getting really good at bringing the ball back every time."

You laughed, your eyes squinting with happiness. "I swear he only does this stuff to you."

Stiles scoffed. "Chyea, I know. He's a fucking mama's boy." Cespedes popped his head up slightly to glance at his parents in the shade. "Yea, I'm talking about you, you traitor."

You laughed hard when you watched the mutt rest his head back against the warm blades of grass, not caring about what Stiles said. Stiles felt his heart beat fast at the sound of your melodic laughter. The funny part was that you had a very loud and breathy laugh, but to him, it was like sweet music. It always had been. He settled back into staring at you; small rays of light dancing across your body through the shifting leaves above. You were literally golden and Stiles thought that he had never seen anyone so beautiful. 

"Are you having a good birthday?" He asked, gently spinning the silver wedding band around on your right ring finger. 

You turned your head and opened your eyes to look at him again, a content look settled on your face. "The best birthday." You murmured, only frowning when you saw Stiles' face drop and his brows furrow slightly. 

"Are you sure this is all you wanted to do today? You only turn twenty-seven once." 

"You act like this is nothing." You turned onto your side to face him more, leaving your right hand under Stiles', and smiled lovingly at him. "I'm in my favorite place in the world, with my favorite person and my favorite pup, you bought me champagne, it's getting hotter.." You stopped listing. "I don't know what more I could want."

Stiles' frown turned into a lopsided one, but it still remained on his face. "I know, I just, it's our first birthday of yours as a couple and I just want to make sure it's the best one you've ever had. I wish you would've let me throw you a party or take you to San Francisco or, I don't know, get you a cake." He widened his eyes in playful annoyance at the last item on his list. 

You grinned, pushed your hand against his shoulder, laying him on his back, and climbed on top of him. His hands wrapped around your hipbones and he couldn't help but smile as you pulled your hair over your left shoulder, then leaned down to kiss him. "I don't want or need anything but this." You whispered in between kisses.

He brought one hand up to keep your hair from falling in his face, while the other tightened its grip on your waist. You slipped your tongue in his mouth and he pulled you tighter against him, until you heard the sound of kids playing and giggling in the not so far off distance. You broke the kiss, glanced up and saw two little boys and a little girl running past and pointing at you and Stiles. You licked away a massive grin on your lips and couldn't help but laugh. Stiles laughed with you, the heated moment broken and gone. He pulled your right hand off of his cheek and pressed his lips against your fingers, as you rolled off of him and back onto the blanket. 

"What?" You asked, grinning, as he continued laying small kisses on your fingers.

"I just love this hand." Stiles said, propping himself back up on his side, the two of you returning to your original positions. You quirked an eyebrow up, prompting him to explain, and Stiles simply shrugged one shoulder. "It's the one where your wedding ring is."

"You are such a cheeseball." You grinned. 

"Only for you in that wedding ring." He beamed. 

You sighed happily. It had been eleven months since you and Stiles had gotten together and you were arguably happier with each passing day. The trust had been rebuilt and the love was always there, but it had grown deeper and truer with the advent of your new relationship. You closed your eyes again, enjoying the sun moving in the sky, beginning to creep up on yours and Stiles' shade. 

"What are you thinking about, Gizmo." You heard him whisper, just barely audible over the sounds of the park around you. 

You opened your eyes and smiled, staring straight up at the dancing leaves. "Did you know that this is where I wanted to get married when I was growing up?" 

Stiles couldn't help it when a massive grin spread across his mouth, his pearly whites shining brightly between his pink lips. "The Canaan Arboretum?" 

"Yea, I mean, you do remember what happened here, right?" 

"Are you referring to the eighth grade field trip where you and I kissed for the first time because of a bet?" Stiles asked, a fondness warming his heart further. 

"Can you imagine if Scott had won the bet? I might be married to him right now instead." You teased, trying to keep a straight face. 

Stiles wasn't buying it though. He tisked at your insinuation. "Nah, Giz, face the facts, it was always going to be you and me."

You rolled your eyes. "Yea, yea, yea, but anyway, when Lydia and Jackson and like the rest of the grade saw you and I kiss, and Jackson made fun of me for kissing you, and you ran away-"

"Yea, that sucked, why are we talking about this?" He asked, snorting. 

You turned onto your side to face him, letting him lace his fingers in between yours, as you continued speaking. "Well, when I found you sitting by that pond, and you were so upset. It broke my heart."

"You kissed me again." Stiles filled in the next part of the story with a smile.

"You looked so happy, and I felt like a million butterflies had been released in my body, from both kisses, and the crush just grew and grew and grew." You paused when Stiles leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against your arm. "That night, I did as many thirteen year old girls did, and I laid in bed and planned our wedding."

"Oh my god." Stiles began laughing. "You have to tell me." 

You giggled, and then decided to sit up, crossing your legs and dipping the skirt of your dress down for modesty from passerbys. Stiles laid back against the blanket, folding his hands behind his head and stared up at you, adoringly. You pulled some blades of grass from next to the blanket and began piling them, absentmindedly, on Stiles' stomach. He didn't really care; it was easier to let you do what you wanted than to ever intervene or get annoyed. You began telling him of your teenage plans. 

"Well, I always figured it would be here, because what is more romantic than getting married in the place where you had your first kiss?" You asked rhetorically, and Stiles beamed up at you. "You know the um, reflecting pool on the south end of the arboretum?"

"You mean the one we walked by earlier today and you said 'I love this place'?" Stiles teased, you tilted your head to the side and glared at him. Stiles snickered and spoke more genuinely. "The place near the maze with the bushes or whatever?" 

Your mouth twitched up in the corners and you went back to piling clippings onto his shirt. "Yea, that place... Anyway, at the end of the reflecting pool there is that big stone fountain and the magnolia trees behind it?" Stiles nodded. "I always imagined we'd get married in front of that fountain around this time of year because when the tree blossoms and then it rains, it fills the basin of the fountain up and then drops the petals in and everything kind of glows pink."

"Sounds pretty."

"I always thought so." You paused to smile at him, then continued. "I imagined myself in a big white poofy ballgown, and you in like, a full tuxedo, but now..." You lightheartedly grimaced. 

"What do you see us in at our wedding now?" Stiles asked, removing his left hand from behind his head so that he could massage your exposed knee.

You sighed and thought for a moment, bringing your fingers up to lightly trace over the moles on his left cheek for a moment. "Something slinkier and lace, maybe an open back."

"I would die." Stiles joked, thinking about you in that kind of dress. 

You smirked and threw a single blade of grass at his face. It got tangled in his hair, and the two of you just left it. "I'd probably put you in just like a well-fitting navy blue suit, nothing crazy." 

"What else did you imagine about our wedding when you were a kid?"

 "Hmm.. Well, Scott was going to be your best man, I assume that hasn't changed." Stiles shook his head. "But my Dad was going to walk me down the aisle back then.." You pursed your lips together.

"My dad can do it now..." Stiles offered.

"I think I'd have your dad walk my mom and maybe Scott walk me." 

"I'd like that too, actually." He murmured, gently squeezing your knee. "What else?" 

"Back then, our first dance was going to be to "My Boo" by Usher and Alicia Keys." You admitted, waiting for his full body, uncontrollable laughter.

It came. Stiles' laugh woke Cespedes from his sun nap, and he moved a little farther away to get out of reach of the sound. "That is the most 2006 thing anyone has ever said. I'm dying."

"IT WAS ROMANTIC!" You playfully yelled.

"Oh my god, that is still going to be our first dance. I'm making sure of it. That's hilarious." Stiles let out a big sigh and wiped the happy tears from his eyes. "I actually had an idea for our first dance." He offered once he calmed back down. 

"Me too."

"I was thinking one of the songs from Scott and Allison's wedding."

You grinned hard. "You read my mind." You fluttered your eyes up and shook your head. "Of course you did. You were thinking 'Can't Help Falling In Love' as well?"

Stiles smiled softly. "I thought it was fitting for us, I mean, I couldn't help but fall in love with you in actuality, so..." 

You wiped the grass off of Stiles' stomach, cuddled up next to him and kissed him sweetly. He was everything you ever dreamed of and more. The two of you laid around, holding each other and talking about your thirteen year old wedding plans and laughing at how time and age had changed your opinions of what you wanted out of your wedding. 

"Would you take my last name?" Stiles asked quietly. 

"I think so." You smiled up at him, while gently rubbing circles on his chest over the fabric of his shirt with your left hand. 

"And you still want to get married here?" He clarified, and you hummed in agreement. "Would you believe that I thought it would be nice to get married here too; kind of poetic because our first kiss was here, like you said." 

"Someday." You murmured, placing a warm kiss against his lips. 

"How does June 3, 2019 sound?" Stiles asked, a serious look on his face. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and smirked. "Our two year wedding anniversary as our _actual_ wedding anniversary?" You asked, somewhat sarcastically, as you felt Stiles shift next to you. You watched him pull his wallet out of his back pocket, and you paused, suddenly confused as to what was going on.

Your attention was drawn up to his face when he began speaking again. "What would you say if I told you I already reserved that date with the park?" He asked, and you felt warm metal slip down your left ring finger.

" _Oh my god_." You mumbled, as you looked down and suddenly saw a sparkling diamond resting against your knuckle. " _Stiles_.."

"I don't want to wait when I have known it was you all along. I reserved the date for the park about a month ago, and I bought this about two weeks before that." He paused and smiled when tears welled in your eyes. "I don't want to wait anymore, Giz. I want to be able to tell people you are my wife. I want to give you the wedding you deserved from the start. I want to really spend my life with you." He took a breath, and rubbed his long fingers against your soft cheek. "Will you marry me?"

"I'd marry you a thousand more times, Stiles Stilinski." You said, resting your head back against his shoulder and seeing him relax back onto the blanket with a grin so wide, it nearly took over his entire face. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss against your forehead. 

" _Mrs. Gizmo Stilinski_." He beamed down at you facetiously, his smile growing even wider when he saw you roll your eyes.

* * *

"Okay, well, thank you to Scott and Allison for their speeches and for telling all of those hilarious and _incredibly_ embarrassing stories about Y/n and I. Really, _such_ great friends." Stiles said sarcastically, giving them both a thumbs up before turning back to the room that he held captive as long as he had the microphone. "Um, I know that the bride and groom aren't supposed to really give speeches at their own wedding reception, but uh, _it's me_ , you guys, did anyone ever expect me not to talk when someone gave me access to a microphone?"

Laughter was heard from the guests and Stiles caught you with your palm attached to your forehead and a grin on your lips. He smiled and grabbed your hand from your face, cupping it in his own and giving it a soft squeeze, as he stood next to you. You looked up at him adoringly, and then leaned your head against his side, as he brought his hand around to rub soft circles on your exposed back. He looked down at you for one last nod of approval, which you granted him, and he looked back out in the crowd, continuing his speech. 

"In all seriousness, Scott and Allison told you a lot of stories, most of which were completely true unfortunately, about both Y/n and I, and many of you have known us for most of our lives, so you have your own stories about us separately and together, but there is one part of our story that, up until an hour ago when we told our parents, only Y/n and I knew about. We thought it was time to share." 

Stiles glanced around the room at the confused looks on your family and friends faces and couldn't help but smirk. He loved pulling a fast one on everyone. He took a deep breath and looked down at you, the woman who, only a few hours before, he had stood in a garden with and dedicated his life to. He had spent days trying to convince you to let him share this story at your wedding, only to finally wear you down by the fourth day of incessant begging. He was excited to get started because even you didn't know where this story ended. _But he did_. 

He cupped his hand around your chin and smiled down to you as he lifted the microphone back up to his lips and began his tale of love and devotion. "Scott told you that we met this beauty when we were six years old, but what he didn't say is that I'm pretty sure that was the day I fell in love with her. It was the first day of kindergarten and I was trying to fit my lunchbox in the cubby next to Scott's, but it just wouldn't go in. Scott was standing next to me, trying to advise me to turn it this way, or rotate it that way, or just the two of us trying to push it against my backpack, but it just wasn't happening." He looked down at you again and grinned. "That's when _this_ one put her things in the cubby to the left of mine, and asked what we were trying to do."

* * *

_"What are you doing?" Y/n asked, straightening out her frilly socks against her ankles with a soft smile that had one of the front teeth missing from it._

_"We can't fit my lunchbox in my cubby." Stiles answered, still trying to shove the soft, green Yoda lunch bag into the square hole with his weak little kid muscles._

_"Why won't it fit?" Y/n inquired further._

_"He has too many Star Wars action figures in his backpack." Scott pointed at the matching green, Yoda-themed backpack stuffed in the cubicle._

_"SCOTT!!!" Stiles whined, embarrassed and annoyed that his best friend just threw him under the school bus._

_Y/n smiled. "That stinks. I have room in my cubby for your lunchbox. If you let me play with your action figures with you, you can keep it next to my lunch bag."_

_Stiles' face softened and he smiled at the little girl with her hair in braids standing in front of him. "Really? Do you like Star Wars?" He asked, as he slid his lunch box in next to hers with ease._

_She nodded. "I saw it for the first time this summer, in the theaters. It was amazing. I wanna be a Jedi!" She said enthusiastically._

_Hearts practically grew out of Stiles' eyes. He finally had someone to talk about his favorite movie with since Scott wouldn't see it. "Do you wanna sit at our table?" Stiles asked, gesturing back and forth between him and Scott, who waved sheepishly at her from behind his best friend._

_She nodded. "Sure! I'm Y/n."_

_"I'm Stiles, this is Scott. He's my best friend, but you can be our friend too, if you want."_

_"Cool name, and yea, that'd be nice!" Y/n replied, and Scott sighed as she and Stiles talked about Star Wars while they headed to an empty table in the classroom._

* * *

"I kept my lunch box in her cubby that entire year, even when it would fit in my own. It just became tradition and she became mine and Scott's best friend." Stiles pulled your hand up from resting on the table and kissed your ring finger, heavily adorned with three rings. He then continued his story. "Some of you might not have known before Scott's speech, why we decided to have the wedding here at the Canaan Arboretum, but this place is the exact spot where I _actually_ did fall in love with Y/n for the first time."

* * *

_"I dare you to...." Lydia looked around the table, trying to find someone who Y/n wouldn't want to kiss, until Jackson leaned over and whispered in her ear. She snickered and nodded. "kiss Stiles Stilunski." She chose, and Y/n's cheeks immediately flushed red._

_"It's Stilinski." Stiles sighed, shaking his head at the strawberry blonde, who despite knowing him for years, still didn't seem to know his name somehow._

_"Doesn't matter, you walking ballsack," Jackson sneered as other's snickered at Stiles' expense. Y/n felt the rage build up inside of her; she wanted to shut Jackson up and defend her best friend at the same time. "you don't have the... ballsack to kiss her."_

_"You know what, Jackson, she doesn-" Y/n cut Stiles off when he turned to face her, by pressing her nervous lips against his. Her nose bumped against his and he kept his eyes open for a moment too long, but suddenly, her hands softened on his cheeks, Stiles turned his head and let his eyes flutter closed, and the two teenagers began to melt into the kiss._

_"Whoa." Scott mumbled from across the picnic table._

_"Oh my god, that's disgusting. I can't believe she kissed such a loser!" Jackson shouted and the other kids laughed. Y/n broke from the kiss first, only remembering that they were surrounded by people when Jackson piped up. Stiles panicked, pushed her away from him and ran off._

_"Why do you have to be such an shithead, Jackson?" She screamed at him, as some of the snickering ended and people around the table looked on in surprise over her outburst. She left the table in search of her best friend. Y/n searched through the woods for a solid twenty minutes and finally found him under a crab apple tree, tossing the apples on the ground at the tree in front of him. "_ _Stiles?" Y/n asked gently, tip-toeing around the side of the tree that he was leaning against._

_"Leave me alone, Y/n. I don't want to talk." Stiles said, without turning to look at her._

_"That's okay. I'm just gonna sit here until you do." She slumped down against the same tree, and felt the crunchy dead leaves, on the forest floor, breaking beneath the weight of her hands._

_A few silent minutes dragged by before Stiles finally spoke again. "I'm sorry."_

_"For running off?"_

_Stiles nodded, and she caught it out of the corner of her eye. "And shoving you, and being embarrassed and not kicking Jackson's stupid ass." Stiles punched his small fist into his palm, and you laughed at his aggression._

_"It's okay. I called him a 'shithead' and stormed off. Danny looked stunned." She cackled, and Stiles finally broke his seriousness with a snicker._

_"He is a shithead." He mumbled, a smile finally breaking out on his face, as he moved closer to her, their shoulders pressed up against each other while sharing one side of the tree to lean against. He finally turned to look at her fully. "That was your first kiss too, right?" Y/n nodded, a pink hue covering her cheeks. Stiles smiled, and bumped his shoulder against hers playfully. "You know, I always just assumed you would take pity on me eventually and you would be my first kiss, but that was definitely not how I imagined it going." His cheeks mirrored the pink blush of hers._

_Y/n turned to look at the boy she was secretly crushing on, and did something bold. "Want to try again?" She stuttered. "J-just to, uh, get it right this time." She looked down when Stiles' hand curled around hers against the ground. She looked up to see him nodding._

_Her heart pounded against her chest the moment that Stiles' hand pressed against her cheek. He closed his eyes when she did and tilted his head to the left. His soft pink lips connected with hers and he felt fireworks. " **Wow**." _

* * *

Stiles pulled on your hand and lifted you to your feet. You grinned, as you wrapped your hands around his waist and leaned up to lay a soft peck on his lips. "I think I'm the only one who is enjoying this trip down memory lane, baby." You teased with a smirk. 

Stiles shrugged, continuing to hold you close to him. "Fuck 'em. Idiots wouldn't know a good story if it hit them on the head." You rolled your eyes and nuzzled your nose into his shoulder, listening to him pick the story back up. "When we were eighteen, Y/n and I went of to D.C. together. I wouldn't have made it through George Washington or the FBI Academy without her, so at twenty-two, the night before my graduation from Quantico, Gizmo, here, and I celebrated-"

You pulled the microphone down towards the table. "You are not telling that story." Stiles grinned, and let you pull the hand holding the microphone up to your mouth. "And we reaffirmed the marriage pact that we had made at sixteen, so, moving on...." 

Laughter filled the room as you shook your head and sat back down, smirking up at your oversharing husband. "Alright, I guess she told the important part of that story, and I guess that leads us to Y/n and I moving home and Scott and Allison getting married. There are two parts of this story: one that you all don't know about, and one that you" Stiles looked down at you with a grin. "don't know about yet."

" _What are you up to_?" You mouthed with a grin, and Stiles played coy, shrugging and going back to speak to his incredibly curious, captive audience.  

"I'll start with all of you." Stiles gestured out to his family and friends. "Um, there was nothing accidental about this day. The arboretum was chosen because it was where we first kissed and where I proposed. ' _First Day Of My Life_ ' was chosen as our first dance because it was the song that we danced to during our first slow dance together back in eighth grade, and most importantly, this day was chosen for a reason. Two years ago, today, we were in Las Vegas for Scott and Allison's bachelor and bachelorette party. Y/n and I had a bit too much to drink, we, as Scott would say,  _finally,_ admitted our feelings for one another, stumbled into a twenty-four hour chapel and got married." Stiles paused as a series of gasps and whispers began to fill the tent that they were sitting under. He looked down at you, your face flushed red as suddenly your secret was no longer a secret. He smiled reassuringly at you, and you wrapped your hand around his, squeezing gently against the sides of his palm. 

Stiles brought the microphone up to his mouth again and the guests grew quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop on the other side of the room. They were stunned. "Today is my two year wedding anniversary. Today marks the best day of my life because it was the day that she got legally stuck with me." You laughed at his absurdity and pulled his hand to your lips, leaving soft kisses on his knuckles. He wasn't even watching the guests anymore. You two had already said your vows at the ceremony, but Stiles couldn't help but continue pouring his heart out to you. "I have known I was in love with Y/n since I was nine, and she has been my best friend since I was six."

Stiles paused and looked over at Scott. "Sorry, Scotty. You are still my best friend too." Scott laughed and lifted his beer in the air to toast his best friend. 

"She has been the love of a lifetime, and she always will be. Two years ago, I got to marry my best friend and I have never looked back. There was never a moment in which I thought that that decision was a mistake. A life spent with her by my side was always where I saw myself heading. I am going to cherish this beautiful woman every day until the day that I die." Tears filled up your eyes as you listened to the man that you were in love with reaffirm his devotion to you in front of your family and friends for the second time that day, in a way that felt even more honest than the first time since everyone now knew the truth. He lifted you on to your feet, and kissed you hard on the lips. The clinking of silverware against the body of crystal glasses echoed off the plastic tent roof and the trees surrounding the reception.

Stiles whispered for you to remain standing, and so you held his hand and stayed next to him for the next part. He waited for the chatter to die down and began again. "The second part of this story is for you, Giz." He smiled at you, his amber eyes twinkling with pure love. "The part of the story that Allison didn't tell you all earlier, is that when we were sixteen and we made the pact to marry each other, Y/m was eating an apple. That may seem like nothing to all of you, but the apples became almost like a symbol of our promise to each other. The day of the pact, I stole her apple from her and started eating it, and she made me promise that when we got married, that I would always buy enough apples for the both of us. But the thing is, I don't think she ever actually minded it when I ate her apples. We shared everything."

Stiles paused, his eyes were filling up with tears, so he took a deep breath and soldiered on. "My mom adored Y/n, and every day, after she died, my Dad would forget to pack me a healthy snack with my lunch. He had a lot on his plate back then, so I never held it against him, plus he never forgot my Cheetos, so I didn't mind too much. But every single day, until our very last lunch together on the last day of senior year of high school, Y/n would bring two apples with her lunch, and every day, she would start eating one, and I would take it from her hand and finish it. We would take turns eating the second one and that was a daily routine for us. The one year that we didn't have lunch together, in seventh grade, Y/n would meet me at my locker before classes started in the morning, and she would hand me two apples. She was always thinking of me, and I loved her for it. I'm always thinking of her too. The morning after we got married, at some point in my drunken antics, I had stolen an entire basket of apples for her, as a fulfillment of my promise to her." Stiles paused and turned to you. "Baby, I decided to do one better for this wedding."

"What did you do, Stiles..." You whispered, smiling softly at the love of your entire life. 

"Even though I know that you secretly love it when I finish your apples for you, I made you a promise, and I intended on keeping it. So this morning, before getting ready at the house, Scott, Isaac, Liam and I dug two giant holes in the backyard." Stiles paused and nodded towards the deejay. "Can you pull up the picture, man?"

The deejay nodded and loaded a picture onto the giant screen behind him. You looked over at a picture of Stiles, Scott, Isaac and Liam standing in front of two apple trees with shovels in their hands and dirt on their clothes and faces; huge smiles and their arms around each others shoulders. Stiles had planted apple trees in the backyard of the house that the two of you had bought together in Beacon Hills six months before. You pulled your up to your cover your mouth and felt the tears drip down your cheeks. You were moved beyond words. You looked back at the man in front of you. You had loved him for twenty-two years, but you had never loved him more than you did in that very moment. 

Stiles put the microphone down. This last part was only for you to hear. "Enough apples for the both of us, as long as we and these trees both live. I love you so much."


End file.
